


Otter Tales

by AnotherAldebaran



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Centaurs, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Death Eaters living like Muggles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Non-Chronological, Otters, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, muggle beer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-09-07 00:54:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20300773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAldebaran/pseuds/AnotherAldebaran
Summary: The war has ended and Hermione is lost, returning to Hogwarts for her seventh year. Snape, too, is feeling rather lost. A potions accident turns their lives upside down. Otters are most definitely involved. And what are the Death Eaters up to? Post-war, mostly canon. M rated for language and some situations. Slowly developing SSHG, now complete!





	1. The End And The Beginning

**A/N:** This tale is almost fully written and looks to be 11 chapters, give or take. M rated for situations and language but not very explicit. I've made some changes to canon but they should be fairly obvious. Hope you enjoy!

/AA

**October 1998**

**Hogwarts, Scotland**

At first it had been a relief to come back to Hogwarts, but the feeling soon turned into complete and utter boredom. Now, nearly two months into the autumn term, Hermione Granger wasn't sure she'd be able to cope. The restrictions were stifling, the students — those in Ginny's year since she'd returned for her seventh year — were stupid, immature and annoying, the classes were boring for the most part and she'd read basically everything worth reading in the library already. At least she'd been given a bit of leeway by the Headmistress. The Head Girl post had gone to a Hufflepuff girl in Ginny's year, Alanna Waincroft, a popular and bubbly girl who seemed to be friends with everyone. Hermione had accepted the newly created post of Deputy Head Girl since, in the Headmistress' words, Hermione would of course have been Head Girl if her last school year had been anything resembling normal. That meant she had her own rooms in the same corridor as the Head Boy and Girl, with a small sitting room with a fireplace, a table and a couch, and a bedroom with a private bathroom attached.

A few others from her year were back to finish their education, either due to failing or missing the exams that were postponed a month to the end of July, or due to not having attended the last year. Most of her old classmates had left, however, but she still had Ginny and Luna around. Dean Thomas and Justin Finch-Fletchley had returned along with Belinda Copper, a Ravenclaw girl Hermione hadn't really talked to much.

She still had trouble sleeping, with nightmares and insomnia plaguing her ever since the end of the war last May. Sometimes she woke herself up screaming when Bellatrix came at her again with the knife, or when Fenrir Greyback made good of his promise to rape and maim her. Crookshanks… No, she wouldn't think of him. It felt wrong, unsettling and outrageously unfair that the world still wasn't safe after Voldemort's fall, that some of his mad followers still remained.

Sometimes she woke up crying, after reliving the battle at Hogwarts and the awful event in the Shrieking Shack when she almost came eye-to-eye with Voldemort himself and when the snake had done its best to kill Professor Snape. In her dreams she saw him die, the light in his eyes winking out and blood pouring out of his mouth and nose, while in reality she managed to save him with Dittany and a vial of antivenin she'd found in his inner robe pocket along with some Blood Replenishers. She hadn't known it worked until afterwards, however, when she brought Professor McGonagall and Mr Weasley along to the Shack to bring him back to the Castle.

She hadn't talked to him outside of class. She'd thought about it but it was too hard to face him. Instead she settled for watching him, studying his habits and interactions with others, in the Great Hall, in the classroom or whenever their paths happened to cross.

~o~o~x~o~o~

Harry had understood her drive to go back and finish school but Ron had complained that it meant they would not see each other much since Harry and Ron had taken the offer of honorary NEWTs and started Auror training.

She'd spent most of the summer with Harry at Grimmauld Place since her parents were still lost to her. Their summer had been busy. Hermione and Harry had worked with Kingsley on collecting evidence for various Death Eater trials, and also on clearing Professor Snape's name after viewing the memories he'd given Harry. Ron was busy at the Burrow, helping his parents rebuild it and also grieving for Percy who had died during the battle at Hogwarts, in the last moment pushing Fred aside just before a huge boulder fell on him.

"I get it," Harry had said when they talked one late evening in the dining room over a cup of tea. "You don't have anything else right now that binds you. Ron has his family, I'm fine with becoming an Auror and I have Ginny, but you need the stability of something that hasn't changed."

Hermione had nodded and tried to blink away the tears. Harry was right, she didn't have anything that bound her; for some reason Ron never made the cut in that calculation. She'd tried to reverse the Obliviation of her parents but it hadn't worked even with the help of Bill Weasley.

They'd made plans to meet up in Hogsmeade during term but so far it had been difficult to schedule something between the hectic Auror training schedule and the Hogsmeade days. Hermione wasn't sure if she was upset or relieved about it. Mostly, she still didn't feel much, going through her days on autopilot watching other peoples' lives pass by as if through a glass window. How could the other students take their own petty squabbles, crushes and intrigues seriously? None of that mattered, not anymore, not after last year.

~o~o~x~o~o~

Hermione sighed again and made her way down to the dungeons for her last class of the day, double Potions. At least with Professor Snape back, Potions was interesting and challenging again. He wasn't as high strung as before the war and even took points from Slytherin occasionally. Still, she thought there was something missing also in his class. Not so much for the contents of the class but something else, in her Professor. The fire was gone from his eyes, the passion.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**October 1998**

**Hogwarts, Scotland**

Severus Snape sat at his desk in the Potions classroom and stared blankly ahead at nothing. His first-years had left the classroom some time ago, quietly placing their atrocious samples on his desk, properly cowed already a few weeks into term. He had an empty period until his next class and should probably be grading something.

He'd never thought he'd survive the war, let alone that he'd be anywhere but in Azkaban if that were the case. Somehow, when he woke up after a month in the Hogwarts Infirmary, he found that Potter Junior and Miss Granger had managed to clear his name together with Kingsley and a few select others. He'd even been given an Order of Merlin for his troubles. First Class. Now that he had the medal, he found he couldn't care less about it. Where was the Ministry when things were tough and the Wizarding world was overrun by evil? Hiding, or worse yet, helping it along. At least the medal came with a stipend which was some consolation, not that he needed the money when working at Hogwarts.

Minerva had shown up as soon as he was awake, and after a tear-filled (on her end) explanation (his) and apology (hers) she'd asked if he wanted his old job back, teaching Potions. He'd accepted since he didn't really have any other options at the moment, and he needed time to figure out what he actually wanted to do with his life now that he was free from the mess that was serving under two masters demanding all of his spare time.

Still, when September first came around again, he was sure he'd made a big mistake in agreeing to return. Students. Students everywhere. And everyone looked at him with apprehension when Minerva announced he would be back to teach Potions. The other teachers had been equally difficult to face when he showed up at the preparatory staff meeting a week before term started. Most of them still eyed him with suspicion, clearly not over his role in Albus' death and the subsequent year with him as Headmaster.

Life quickly settled into routine, however. Classes came and went, and students with them. For all but the first years he had to do a fair bit of damage control after two years with Slughorn. He had been able to control who came into his sixth-year NEWT class, accepting only the ones with Outstanding OWLs as he usually did, but there was no way to cull those that shouldn't be in his seventh-year NEWT class, unfortunately, so the class was larger than usual and had several students that he never would have accepted.

Sometimes he wondered what the point of it all was. Everything seemed meaningless to him. He was isolated, in some ways even more so than during the horrible year as Headmaster. None of his colleagues talked to him much other than asking him to pass the salt. He moved back into his old quarters, grateful for the familiarity of the dark chambers, the shabby furniture and his books, but he didn't have any drive to start anything. His private lab was untouched and his evenings were mostly spent nursing a Firewhisky or two, or more, the piles of essays to be corrected growing ever higher.

With a sigh he he straightened the piles of parchment on his desk and wiped the board before he flicked the door open again, to let in the next batch of dunderheads, although technically speaking these should be the least afflicted of his classes as it was the seventh-year NEWT students.

The students started filing in. That class contained someone he'd at first been surprised to see return but he quickly realised that she was back for more or less the same reasons as he was, clinging to something familiar like a lifeline in a time of upheaval.

Miss Granger settled in her usual spot with merely a glance at him. She was seated with one of the more hopeless cases of the class, a Hufflepuff by the name of Mr Montfort who had a bad case of being a teenaged male and an utter dunderhead at that. At least she didn't bother correcting his work as she had Longbottom's, it seemed she had matured a bit over her extended camping trip, at least sufficiently to realise the futility of such an action.

It happened just over halfway into class. He had been walking around the room, checking the students' progress and offered some quiet suggestions where required, when he heard a noise that shouldn't be there. An unstable cauldron, about to explode. He saw Miss Granger reacting a split second before he did, since she was closer.

"No!" someone shouted. It might even have been him. With a speed he didn't know he had, he pushed her aside and started casting a shield around the cauldron.

The cauldron blew. He felt the blast, the hot potion hitting him in the face and all over his robes, and then suddenly his world shrank before it all turned black.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**May 1998**

**Somewhere shabby**

Rabastan Lestrange woke with a massive headache, as if he had pulled an all-nighter the evening before, but he was reasonably sure that wasn't the case.

He sat up gingerly and looked around. A small dirty cottage which he didn't recognise. He lay on a grimy bed with a squeaky metal frame and a scratchy woollen throw, one of those Muggle electrical lamps was hanging from the low ceiling and the small window was covered in spider webs and dirt. The room was tiny, only just large enough for the bed and a formerly powder blue dresser next to the window.

He rose on unsteady feet and lurched to the doorpost, looking out over a small combined sitting room and kitchen. The furniture was in that stage beyond well-worn, where the next step was complete disintegration if someone looked at it wrongly. A tiny couch stood next to the old wood stove, opposite what passed for the kitchen area.

"Hey." Antonin Dolohov looked up from the rickety wooden kitchen table where he was spearing slices of sausage on his knife before eating them.

"What…?"

"We're not far from Inverness. Shit's fucked, man. Snakeface is dead. I pulled you here just before an Auror was about to bash your head in. You've been asleep for three days."

"Gods…" Everything was spinning and he slumped back against the doorpost. "We lost? What is this place?"

Antonin handed him a glass of water and Rabastan gratefully drank it down.

"Just told you, didn' I?" Antonin turned back to his food.

Rabastan managed to walk over to the kitchen table and took the other chair. Antonin pulled out another plate and dumped half a can of beans on it before adding some slices of sausage. He dug around in the kitchen cupboards and pulled out a fork which he put on the plate.

"Muggle place?" He took the fork gingerly and prodded a bean. "No elves?"

"Don't get all fancy now," Antonin snapped. "No elves, no magic, don't even try. Was my great-gran's place, this, but it hasn't been used for ages and if we start doing magic here we'll get caught."

"Shite," Rabastan muttered and tried the beans. Cold, bland and slimy, just as they looked. "So what should we do, Antonin?"

"I dunno, you got any bright ideas? An' I told you before to call me Tony."

Rabastan shrugged and focused on finishing the beans. The future could wait, just a little. Being unexpectedly alive had to take precedence.


	2. Discovery

**May ** **— July 1998**

**Hogwarts and Grimmauld Place**

After the battle Hermione had spent some time at Hogwarts, helping with the repairs. She had brewed potions for Madam Pomfrey — _call me Poppy, dear, you__'re not really a student anymore,_ — she'd Transfigured arches and repaired stonework where the Castle was damaged, and she'd helped the Headmistress plan the restoration work with colour-coded time tables and ever-expanding lists. The Castle was put to rights surprisingly quickly, as help had poured in from all kinds of unexpected sources. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had sent delegations to assist with the work, and plenty of people volunteered to help. The Malfoys had offered a generous amount for the restoration, which Hermione suspected was due to them needing to polish their tarnished image, but she and Harry had still helped vouch for Draco when he was questioned by the Ministry for his involvement in the war, and he was only sentenced to community service at St Mungo's for a few months. They'd managed to get Professor Snape exonerated, too, in a hearing with Kingsley as interim Minister.

Harry had asked her to join him at Grimmauld Place after a few weeks, wanting to move on with his own life. He had repaired his relationship with Ginny and seemed to be happier, despite everything that had happened, now that Voldemort was out of his head. Hermione found it had been a mistake to move to Grimmauld, however. She needed to stay busy to not have the nightmares take over completely. She had trouble falling asleep, woke herself up screaming after a few hours, and went through the rest of the day in a daze, completely shut off from the world. She didn't feel, anymore, she just was. No feelings made it through the shields her mind had put up on its own.

Another thing that turned out to be a mistake was leaving for Australia with Bill Weasley. They'd managed to track down Hermione's parents after only a week but nothing they did managed to reverse the Obliviations. In the end, they'd had to cast another one on the two Muggles to hide their tracks before leaving, her parents convinced that the two of them were neighbours who had wanted to borrow their phone.

Harry, Ginny and Fleur met up back at the Ministry when they arrived by Portkey, and the older Weasleys left for their own home while Hermione followed Harry and Ginny back to Grimmauld Place, too numb to think. She wanted nothing but to burrow into bed, to hibernate until at least the next year, but Ginny made sure she was settled in the kitchen with a cup of tea while Harry fetched Chinese from the nearby Muggle place.

Ron arrived later, talking about Quidditch, his family and his future plans. Hermione tried to smile at him, letting his words wash over her. He kissed her again, and she let him.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**August 1998**

**The Burrow**

She followed Harry to the Burrow a few weeks later. The whole Weasley clan had met up for dinner, a boisterous affair as usual even if the mood was a bit more sombre. After much cajoling by Mrs Weasley she had agreed to stay the night, and thus she found herself in Ron's old bedroom.

"Can't we, just, you know?" Ron asked. The tent in his trousers made it clear what he meant.

Hermione sighed. She was almost nineteen, after all. They'd been a couple since the battle at Hogwarts, at least Ron presumed so and she let him. She didn't know what she felt about him. What she should feel… perhaps she was just too damaged by the war to have any feelings? Some times she felt as if she was in a glass bubble, watching the world outside but without any emotional connections to anything at all. Something had shut off inside her during that time on the run, after months in a tent followed by Bellatrix and the battle.

"Alright…"

He grinned widely and pushed her backwards onto the bed even as he tried to tug her t-shirt off.

It was fast and messy and painful. After, Ron fell into a messy sweating heap by her side, a long arm slung across her stomach. Wet. He'd sweated all over her. She scampered out of bed and quickly made it into the shower, locking and warding it tight. When he came to join her she claimed her wand was too far away for her to unlock the door, and he did know better than to try to break her wards.

She fled outside while he took his turn showering, feeling dirty and lost and confused and more than a little angry. With whom, she couldn't say. The night was velvety dark, overcast with a half moon occasionally shining through the layers of clouds, but it was still warm enough for her not to shiver even when only wearing a shabby t-shirt and a pair of soft shorts.

Crookshanks sauntered up to her, having chased off all the gnomes again. Although he did seem to like it at The Burrow, Hermione got the impression that he still hadn't forgiven her for abandoning him there when she left with Harry and Ron after Bill and Fleur's wedding. She was relieved to feel that at least for the moment, he accepted her presence and even deigned himself to letting her stroke him. They sat together on the steps, looking out over the garden and the landscape beyond while the crickets sang in the bushes.

When she returned to the room, much later, Ron was snoring and sprawled across the whole bed. Hermione sighed and went up to Percy's room again, carefully warding it against any and all Weasleys. Although she hadn't exactly known Percy well she had still recognised part of herself in him, in his study habits and rule-following nature, very different from the rest of his family. Perhaps, she mused, that was why she wasn't exactly accepted by the Weasleys, either, not like Harry was.

The next morning she'd been all but thrown out of the Burrow by an irate Mrs Weasley who was screeching about Hermione desecrating Percy's memory, or something to that effect, while Ron was upset she hadn't returned to his bed.

She studiously avoided being alone with Ron after that. He didn't stay overnight at Grimmauld, luckily, and she made sure to only visit The Burrow when she absolutely had to.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**March 1976 **

**The Library, Hogwarts, Scotland**

Severus Snape had selected his table in the library with care, and added a Notice-Me-Not charm to the whole section so that he could study in peace. He needed to work on a set of problems for Arithmancy, write two feet of parchment for Ancient Runes and then there was Transfiguration where he needed to get ahead a bit. Professor McGonagall was strict on Slytherins, blatantly favouring Gryffindor, and he simply didn't have the knack for turning badgers into knapsacks and all those other odd spells she taught them. He'd never understood the focus on Transfiguring animals to something inanimate, or vice versa. If one wanted a set of buttons, why on Earth would they start with beetles? Why not some pebbles or something else that didn't move and buzz around? All those cats, badgers, ferrets, hedgehogs, snakes, mice and lizards. Where did the Professor keep them all stashed away? Still, it was their OWL year so he had to make an effort. At least the exam would be overseen by someone from the Ministry rather than Professor Gryffindor herself.

"I did it, James!"

Severus' concentration was shot when he heard the voices of the self-proclaimed Marauders just behind the shelves he was sitting by, and he nearly spilled ink all over his essay. Scowling he put it aside and prepared for yet another confrontation. It always happened when they were close, and now he was just a stack of books away from them. That had been the voice of Peter Pettigrew who sounded suspiciously happy. _Did what?_ Severus wondered. He aimed his wand at the bookshelf and muttered an eavesdropping spell.

"Then you can join me and Padfoot next Shack night," Potter was saying.

Severus shook his head. That didn't make much sense at all. Padfoot? Shack night? Were they having an orgy? He shuddered at the thought.

Suddenly a squeaking noise, as if from a small rodent, could be heard.

"Erm, okay, can you change back?" Potter said, sounding amused and a bit uncertain. "You won't be able to keep up with us in the Forest but… I guess that suits you, Peter. Have you shown Padfoot?"

Severus heard a whooshing noise, and clothes rustling. "Yeah I did. Erm, he said I'd be Wormtail now. I don't know, James, isn't that a bit…?"

Potter laughed, not very kindly. "Wormtail? That's great. Come on, let's go back up and tell Mooney you're coming with us next time. It's nearly dinner time anyway."

The two Gryffindors packed up and left. Severus scowled at the wall, grateful to have avoided being hexed but annoyed with them for having secrets. When he was sure they were gone he cautiously rose and walked over to the table Potter had occupied. Books were scattered all over the table. Most of them were reference books for Charms, Care of Magical Creatures and Astronomy, so apparently Potter had actually been studying when Pettigrew arrived. Severus walked around the table, looking for clues. A folded parchment lay on the floor next to the chair Pettigrew must have used. He bent down to pick it up. Suddenly he heard Madam Pince approaching, and before she could bust him for having made a mess at Potter's table he quickly made his way back to his own table and reinforced the Notice-Me-Not charm.

Once the librarian had disappeared he unfolded the note. _Mandrake Leaf_, he read. _Hawkmoth Chrysalis, potion._ Wait a minute… Those two together, weren't they…? He tore open his satchel and rifled through it to find his Potions reference book. _All About Potions_ was an expensive extra-curricular book that he'd bought from the second-hand selection at Tomes and Scrolls in Hogsmeade with money he'd earned from brewing potions for others in school. He rifled through the index until he found the one he was looking for, and a quick check of the recipe confirmed his suspicions.

Dazed he closed the book and stared sightlessly straight ahead. Animagus. That was the Animagus potion, and the discussion he'd just overheard fit right in. The Potter menace and his band of misfits were Animagi, all of them. How was it possible? The teachers had no clue, he was sure of it. Suddenly the dinner-time bell went off, startling him. He packed up his books, folded the note and strode out of the library.

Well, if they could, so could he. He'd be something strong and powerful, something that would scare them. A panther perhaps, lithe and lethal and fast. Or something airborne, maybe? A hawk or eagle? It would be cool if he could fly.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**July 1998**

**Inverness, or thereabout**

Some weeks later a rather unwelcome acquaintance showed up. June had segued into July which didn't make much of a difference in their remote Scottish cottage, long summer days blending into each other, making it hard to keep track of weekdays and dates.

They'd settled into a strange sort of rhythm, with Tony Side-Along Apparating them both to a Muggle town somewhere where they would nick some food or Muggle money to pay for beer and whatever else they needed. They used magic sparingly and since Rabastan didn't have his wand it meant he had to rely on other skills, such as chatting up Muggles at the pub or nicking a wallet out of a back pocket while Tony occasionally Confunded his targets.

At least Muggle beer was decent, Rabastan thought. It almost made up for having to cook for themselves without magic. Tony hadn't lived with House-Elves managing the household and so he was slightly better at handling the day-to-day issues, but he had insisted that Rabastan learn how to prepare at least some food without burning the house down. Tony had luckily managed to get the shower working in the cramped bathroom and they'd even nicked some clothes in a second-hand shop a few towns over. They looked like Muggles, and poor ones at that, but at least no Auror would recognise them like this.

Rabastan froze when the dirty, ragged and ugly werewolf showed up, walking up to the cottage as if he belonged there. Fenrir Greyback was unpredictable, ruthless and a complete bastard in either form.

"Ah, thought I smelled something here," the wolf rasped. "Bring me food."

~o~o~x~o~o~

**May 1998**

**That Blasted Shack, Hogwarts, Scotland**

Everything hurt. He didn't know who, what, where he was, only white-hot pain.

"Professor! Don't die on me now, please!"

That voice was familiar but the pull of the darkness was too strong and he succumbed to its call even as it tried to tell him to hang on.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**Pain**

**Everywhere**

To his surprise he woke up again. White hot pain lanced his temples as soon as he pried his eyes open and he shut them again with a groan. Someone was there with a cool damp cloth, running it over his forehead. It felt foreign, the touch and gesture, he wasn't used to it.

That voice again. "You're safe, Professor, you're at Hogwarts, Voldemort is dead."

Disbelief and pain warred for his attention and he lost track of everything again just as Poppy — it must have been Poppy — came bustling in with a batch of potions for him.

He was told more of the story once he managed to stay awake for slightly longer. The end of the war, Saint Potter coming back from the dead and Saint Longbottom battling the snake. Potter blurting out his secrets to everyone, including the Dark Lord. That bit had him very conflicted, as he was viciously pleased to hear that the Dark Lord had heard of his loyalties before the end, and furiously mortified that everyone else had, too.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**July 1998**

**Hogwarts, Scotland**

Healing was slow and tedious. He was angry, so angry at everything, and he could neither speak nor move to take it out on someone. Something. Anything. Kingsley came by some weeks later, flanked by Minerva, Poppy and a contingency of Aurors, speaking of setting things to right and of how he'd change the Ministry. Severus scoffed at him but secretly he had to admit that if anyone could root out the corruption, it would be Kingsley. Still, the interim Minister's vow that Severus wouldn't be carted off to Azkaban as soon as he was healed touched him more than he'd admit.

Kingsley came back late that night, alone. Minerva must have let him in, and lured Poppy away from the ward.

"They're still out there." The other man stood by the window, looking out over the lawn. "There were some attacks just last week."

"Who?"

Kingsley turned to face him. "I don't know. There are still a few unaccounted for. We never caught Dolohov, for example."

Severus closed his eyes. "Kingsley. What are you trying to ask of me?" His voice broke into a cough, it still hurt to talk, but at least he was able to do so.

"You're the only one close to the old crew." The man did have the decency to look embarrassed.

He shook his head. Damn, that still hurt, white-hot rays of pain shooting up from his neck. "No, Kingsley. Thanks to a certain Mr Potter they all know of my true allegiance by now. I will give you what info I can and help you connect the dots from what clues you have gathered but in no way will I return to them and resume spying. Do not ask that of me. I have given up my whole life to this, now it's someone else's turn."

Kingsley stood still and silent by the bed but Severus was more than used to staring down students, and despite the disadvantage of being bed bound it was Kingsley who broke first and nodded slowly.

"I'm glad you're still with us, Severus," Kingsley offered quietly. "I apologise for my part in this, Albus fooled so many of us. I have spoken to his portrait together with Minerva and we won't let him get away with feigning sleep. He'll have to explain his actions."

Severus nodded slowly, unsure of what to say. People never voluntarily apologised to him, nor did they offer help without requesting favours.


	3. Accident

**October 1998**

**The Hogwarts dungeons**

He had set them to brewing a potion that, if made correctly, could enhance the imbiber's magical signature and make them more attuned to their own, personal flavour of magic. It was a tricky brew, with several steps that needed to be carefully monitored. Hermione relished the challenge. She'd of course read up on it already but had never had the chance to brew it.

She often ended up sitting next to Eustace Montfort who in some ways was worse than Neville at Potions. Neville had actually known his stuff but was too nervous to focus, while Eustace simply didn't care. Hermione didn't understand why he was in the NEWT class and was certain that he'd never have made it if Professor Snape had been in charge of the sixth-year admissions to the class. Unlike with Neville, however, Hermione didn't bother with correcting him unless she caught him doing something dangerous.

The rest of the classroom faded away as she focused on getting it right, adding the right amount of puffer-fish eyes and then the billywig stings at precisely the right time. She stirred seven times clockwise and once anti-clockwise and put the stirrer aside. Now the potion needed to simmer for three and a half minutes before adding the foxglove. From the corner of her eye she noted Eustace dumping stings into his potion, but they looked slightly wrong and there were definitely too many of them. What was he doing? She frowned and had just finished the foxglove when she saw him adding fire seeds to his brew. The potion started bubbling uncontrollably, the surface rising faster and faster —

"No!" she yelled. She raised her wand to Vanish the contents of the cauldron.

From nowhere Professor Snape arrived, pushed her and the others aside and was just about to cast a protective sphere over the cauldron when it exploded in a fiery cloud. Somehow Hermione managed to put up a shield before the blast hit, but that only saved herself and the ones behind her from being splattered by the boiling mess.

Blinking she tried to clear the residue of the explosion from her vision. The cloud dissipated slowly. Her hip and ribs hurt from where she'd hit a desk on her way down. Eustace appeared unhurt, apparently the Professor had shoved him aside at the last minute. Speaking of which —

The Professor was gone. A heap of black robes remained on the floor but there was no sign of him anywhere. No body, no remains, nothing.

Everyone else was staring at them, wide-eyed. No one moved.

"All out!" she commanded. "Extinguish the flames, Vanish the potions and get out! Was anyone hurt? No? Go to the Hospital Wing anyway, all of you. Dean, can you take the lead?"

Dean nodded at her, stunned. They all shuffled out.

"Professor…" she whispered. What had happened to him? Slowly she approached the black bundle on the floor, and jumped back with a gasp when the cloth moved.

When she lifted the heavy woollen robes off the floor she got another surprise. A black and rather peeved otter looked up and chattered irritably at her, as if whatever had happened was her fault.

"Professor? Is that you?"

The otter chirped again in a way that was unmistakably Professor Snape. She was quite certain he had said something like _Obviously_.

She gave a shaky laugh and sank down on her knees next to the brassed-off otter. "Are you hurt, sir? Can you change back? I'll take you to Poppy."

The otter vigorously shook his head.

"No? What about the Headmistress? I have to tell her."

He shook his head again, chattering at her, not that it helped.

Hermione sighed. Holding long conversations like this was going to be difficult. "You don't want me to tell Poppy or the Headmistress. Is that correct?"

He nodded.

"Can you change back, Professor?"

He shook his head and whined again, and then brought a paw up to his face. The gesture was so similar to Crookshanks that her heart clenched.

"I'm sorry, are you hurt? Let me see."

She lit the tip of her wand and brought her face closer to his for a better look. Some of the potion had stuck to his fur, both over his face and down his throat where he had a lighter patch of fur leading down to his stomach. Hurriedly she Transfigured a piece of parchment into a soft cloth and wet it with an Aguamenti.

"I'm not a Mediwitch, Professor," she muttered as she wiped his face clean. "I don't know how to treat this mess. Do you need something else? Maybe Murtlap essence?"

He nodded against her hand. His eyes were closed as she wiped off the potion, cleaning the cloth with a Scourgify.

"Murtlap essence, then? I hope you have some handy, sir. Let me check. I still think you should go to Poppy." He shook his head again. She rose and went over to his stores, searching for Murtlap essence which she was well acquainted with it after Umbridge's reign at Hogwarts, after all. She found it and also some Dittany, and walked back over to her Potions professor who was still huddled on the floor in robes that no longer fit him.

"Dittany first, then Murtlap? Would that work, Professor?"

He seemed to think about it but nodded and let her get on with it. She knew Dittany stung when it came into contact with wounds but he only flinched when she poured a little between his eyes and then rubbed it in with a finger.

"Your fur is so soft…"

His eyes snapped open and she quickly snatched her finger back before he could bite it. "Hey! Professor. I'm trying to help you, alright?"

He muttered something in Otter but settled again and let her apply the rest of the Dittany to his throat and then the Murtlap essence.

"Do you need anything else, Professor?" She wiped her hands on the cloth after applying the Murtlap essence. The otter shook his head.

Hermione frowned and tried to make sense of the whole situation. What could she do about it all? Was he stuck as an otter? Why did he refuse help?

"I really do want to take you to Professor McGonagall. She's the Transfiguration expert after all, if you have trouble turning back she could help you."

He shook his head vigorously again and chattered at her which merely made him sound like a brassed-off squeaky rubber toy for dogs.

"What should I do then? Bring you to my room?" She'd meant it sarcastically but to her surprise he stared at her and then nodded slowly. "Really? Okay then, Professor."

She scooped him up in his black robes and rose from the floor. After making sure the other cauldrons were safe she left the classroom and put a strong ward on the door just in case. Luckily they didn't encounter anyone on her way up to her room.

She let him loose as soon as they entered her sitting room. He wriggled out of her grasp and settled on the couch, eyeing her warily. Hermione ended up standing next to the fireplace, arms crossed, watching him. What was she to do?

"Are you sure you want to stay here, Professor?"

He nodded again and she could have sworn he rolled his eyes at her.

"And you don't want me to tell Professor McGonagall or Madam Pomfrey about your… your current state?"

The otter shook his head vigorously and squeaked again, somehow managing to convey his very Snape-like annoyance.

She sighed. It felt just like her adventures with Harry and Ron, getting dragged along to things she knew very well she shouldn't be doing. "I don't understand why I always end up agreeing to things like this. Fine. I won't tell them."

Before she left for the Headmistress' office to report the accident, she looked back to the couch. The otter lay curled up on himself, looking small and forlorn against the dark velvet of the couch.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**May 1977**

**Hogwarts, Scotland**

This was it. It had taken him more than a year after he first heard of the Marauders' exploit before he was finally ready to transform. He'd done the meditations, he'd had the mandrake leaf in his mouth for a month over the summer when no one would wonder why he didn't speak, he'd brewed the potion and seen hints of what he'd become. Something with dark fur and four legs. Not a bird at any rate.

He walked to a clearing just inside the Forbidden Forest, next to a small stream. It was late in the evening but sunlight still slanted through the trees. The air was crisp and clean, with birds chirping everywhere and leaves rustling in the gentle wind.

He closed his eyes and focused inwards, letting his breathing slow and all thoughts and worries wash away. Only the goal mattered. There was no incantation, no spell to initiate the transformation, only focus and determination, and that was why the first time was so difficult. Once the form was known and familiar, the transformation would be much easier.

Nothing happened, much like all the other times he'd tried. A surge of anger welled up, over the unfairness of the Marauders targeting him all the time, and over Peter bloody Pettigrew beating him to the transformation. If that sorry excuse of a wizard could do it, then surely he could.

_Whoosh!_

All of a sudden he felt his body shift and everything seemed to be much higher up than it used to. His body shifted and shrank, his head reshaped itself, dense fur sprouted all over his body, a tail grew out and he rose unsteadily on all fours. Slowly he took stock of his new body. He was smaller than he'd expected, his head and body not far off the ground. Apparently a carnivore if the sharpness of his teeth was anything to go by. His sense of smell was much improved, his hearing was good too but his colour vision was worse than usual although contrast and resolution appeared to be adequate. His stiff whiskers twitched, bringing new sensory input when they touched the grass around him. His fur appeared to be dense, black from what he could see, and his front paws had well defined toes and long claws.

He padded down to the nearby stream. The water called to him, somehow, but he also wanted to catch a glimpse of himself. He hadn't thought to bring a mirror. There was a small rock right at the edge of the stream. He crawled up on it, and by a stroke of luck the sun came out just then to give him enough light to see his reflection. A small round head stared back at him from the stream. Black fur but white along his chin and down his throat and belly. Small rounded ears, long stiff whiskers, a short snout. Wait a minute…

An otter? Did he just turn into a bloody _otter_?

Severus groaned but that just came out like a series of chirps. He would never be able to scare the bloody Marauders like this.

A splash further downstream caught his attention. Was that a fish? That needed investigating. He slunk silently down into the water, hissing with pleasure when it washed over his dense fur.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**August 1998**

**Inverness, still**

"Let's make them pay," Greyback growled.

Rabastan didn't like the tension brought by the werewolf. The weeks before his arrival had been almost peaceful, in comparison.

"Who?" Antonin asked. He had managed to get the telly-vision working and was watching the flickering black-and-white images depicting a car chase. Rabastan found it hard to follow the stories, the way the perspective shifted between different people and the various Muggle contraptions he didn't recognise.

"The others. The prissy fuckers in the Castle. Severus Traitor Snape. Anyone else who gets in the way."

Tony shrugged and pulled out another beer. "What do you think, Rab?"

He'd always hated that nickname. His brother had always called him Bast. Now Dolph was gone, as was Bella, although that was honestly a relief. "Yeah… Snape should pay, for sure. Potter's gonna be licking boots in Auror training so he's a bit harder to reach."

Tony nodded slowly. He brought up a week-old copy of the _Prophet_ where the three brats were being interviewed again, smiling at the camera. "Yeah, that Mudblood bitch is going back to the Castle though. She got away from me at the Ministry, remember? I'd like to make her pay."

"Right…" Rabastan said, thinking. "Yeah, she was the one Bella tried to make confess, wasn't she? When she got so mad she broke one of the Malfoys' tables? _He _wasn't happy with her then."

"She owes me a fuck," Greyback rasped. "I was just about to have her at the Manor when she disappeared. Bet she was a virgin, too, so she owes me double for that. Maybe I'll take her arse, she's probably still a virgin there."

Tony grinned and nodded. "Yeah, wouldn't mind some of that trim meself. What 'bout you Rab?"

Rabastan shrugged. "Sure," he muttered. "Got any more beer?" As long as there was beer, he was fine with whatever they came up with.

Greyback opened the fridge and threw a can at him.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**October 1998**

**The Deputy Head Girl** **'s Room, Hogwarts**

She'd been… kind. It had been so long since someone did something for him without requesting a favour in return. Severus had quickly fallen asleep on her couch and didn't wake until early morning, when the first rays of sunlight hit the wall opposite the couch. With a yawn he shook the sleep from his eyes and jumped off the couch to explore his surroundings.

The room was airy and if not large then at least sufficient for a single occupant with the occasional guest. There was a sturdy table by the window that could double as dining table or study desk, as evidenced by the books, parchment and quills currently resting on it. There were still a few logs smouldering in the fireplace, casting the room in a deep orange glow and a cosy heat. She'd prepared some kind of nest by the fireplace with a few soft blankets, and there was a water bowl and a bowl of raw mackerel next to it, kept fresh by house-elf magic. He sniffed the fish and wolfed it down before continuing his explorations.

A door led to her bedroom. It opened at the touch of his paw and he quietly moved inside. She was still asleep, only a mess of brown hair visible on the pillow with the rest of her buried under the heavy blanket, her soft and even breathing filling the silence.

The door opposite the one he'd entered led to the bathroom. The lights came on automatically when he entered, and he was both pleased and unsettled to see a litter tray set up in the corner just by the bathtub which stood by the long wall underneath a small round window. The loo and sink were opposite the door while a vanity with a thankfully silent mirror took up the other wall, and a fluffy dark blue rug covered most of the floor. Grumbling reluctantly he jumped up into the litter tray, feeling completely ridiculous. To his relief the tray automatically Vanished all evidence afterwards. He eyed the bathtub, wondering if it would accommodate an otter, but shook his head and returned to the small sitting room instead. Finding the litter tray had made him uneasy, both for having to use such a thing and for knowing the background to why she had one currently available for him to use, but he couldn't deny it being practical.

He was tired. Of everything. Hogwarts, students, his colleagues, the Death Eaters still on the loose. Tired of guilt, of pain, of the scorn and barely contained revulsion most people seemed to meet him with. There was absolutely no good reason for him to turn back to his human form, back to loneliness and misery and dunderheaded students. Changing back wouldn't be easy, anyway. The potions accident had thrown him into his form with quite a lot of magical force which would require an equal effort to reverse it, and he wasn't sure what the residual effects would be. They would probably lessen with time when the potion wore off, but then again it was harder to change back if one spent too long in their Animagus form. For some reason he couldn't bring himself to worry, though. At least no one would force him to teach Potions as an otter.

He went back to the sitting room, his claws clicking on the stone floor. Jumping up on the window ledge he saw the early morning sun cast rays over the lawn, and he wondered what it would be like. His nose pressed against the cold glass, and the Castle seemed to hum.

To the side of the window a hole opened in the wall. A properly otter-sized hole. He eyed it warily but the Castle seemed to approve as he walked closer, smelling the dusty air wafting from the opening. Could it be a service corridor for the elves? As soon as his paw touched the floor his body was sucked in through the hole, hurtling through the walls at great speed as if he was sledding down a snow slope. He caught glimpses of classrooms and hallways through small openings in the walls as he sped past. Before long he was deposited outside the Castle, close to the rose bushes near Pomona's greenhouses.

He shook his head to get rid of the lingering dizziness, and then set out to explore. The morning air was chilly and damp but his fur was dense and warm. He set off across the lawn, headed for the Forbidden Forest and the small streams he knew of. The forest was quiet apart from the wind rustling the branches, and it smelled of rich loamy earth and decaying leaves.

His nose didn't lead him wrong. The Forest streams were cold and refreshing, and he quickly caught a few small fish which he ate out of principle, taking pride in his hunting abilities even if no one else was watching. It felt good, being able to fend for himself.

He curled up in a ball with his nose on his tail and fell asleep in the pale autumn sun.


	4. Adjustment

**October/November 1998**

Over the next few weeks Hermione slowly adjusted to life with a former Professor as reluctant pet and roommate. He seemed to doze most of the days away, preferring to stay in her rooms on a pillow he'd nicked off her bed or in the window sill by her desk. She asked him several times if he wanted her to fetch Professor McGonagall or Madam Pomfrey but he just wrinkled his little nose at her and stalked out of the room, as much as an otter could stalk anyway. His form still made her laugh, but not when he was looking. The otter simply didn't suit him, it was too cute, too furry and small, and definitely lacking in the stalking, sneering, and menacing departments. Sometimes he was gone when she returned from classes, but he always came back.

A few times he hopped up on the desk as she was studying, seemingly reading her handwriting upside down while she muttered over a Charms text or tried to decipher the wand movements for Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall had retained her NEWT level classes while an American witch had taken over the younger years. She talked to him occasionally when she studied, not expecting much of a response to her questions about potions, Arithmancy or Charms, but he chirped in reply sometimes which made her oddly happy.

She still struggled though, with everything else. Classes were easy even if her classmates were immature and annoying, and homework kept her busy even when she chose not to write an extra three feet on the essays, especially with the special seventh-year projects she had chosen in Charms and Arithmancy. Friendships were more difficult. She did occasionally meet up with Ginny and Luna outside of their shared classes, but she had trouble breaking out of the glass bubble surrounding her, the one that was muting all sounds, feelings and colours before they could reach her. Her new role as Deputy Head Girl was easy enough. She took a few extra patrols but other than that the younger students had quickly realised that the real Head Girl was much more approachable for personal issues, so not many people came to knock at her door.

The Headmistress had eyed her sternly when she had gone up to explain what had happened, later that same day. Hermione had told her the Potions Master had disappeared, leaving only his robes behind, but clearly Professor McGonagall suspected something. She'd sighed and cancelled Potions for the rest of the week while hunting for a replacement, and Hermione had been right on the verge of volunteering to take some of the classes when something stopped her. If Professor Snape could choose not to get help for his… condition, then she could choose not to help with the consequences, for once.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**November 1998**

**The Deputy Head Girl's rooms, Hogwarts**

Severus woke with a start. Something… There had been something. A noise? He didn't sense any disturbance in the sitting room. Sniffing the air only gave evidence of their late-night snacks, the books and parchment on the sofa table and the lingering scents of jasmine and apricot from her shampoo and lotion.

Just as he had decided it was probably an elf and put his head back on his paws he heard it again. A whimpering protest, from her bedroom. Warily he jumped off the couch and padded over to her bedroom door. It was closed but Hogwarts recognised him when he put a paw against the door, and it opened silently to let him in. The room was dark but for the ray of moonlight slanting through the window, and he could vaguely make out her shape in the bed. He took a step closer.

"NO!"

He startled but soon realised she'd screamed in her sleep. A nightmare, then?

"No, please!"

She had twisted herself into the bedsheets, sweat was shining on her brow and her face was contorted into a grimace.

"No! I don't have it, I swear! It's a copy!"

Cautiously he moved closer, and jumped up onto the bed.

She whimpered again. He shuffled up the bed, for once missing his voice and magic. When he tried to tell her to calm down it just came out as a series of squeaks and chirps. To his astonishment perhaps it did help some, as she stilled when he approached her face. Her hand reached for him, landing clumsily on his back, and it seemed the nightmare had finally abated.

"Crooks…" she murmured.

He chirped again but let her pull him closer. She was warm and soft and didn't smell bad at all, even if his otter senses found her jasmine and apricot scents to be a bit lacking in marine associations.

"I was back in the Manor," she said, her eyes still closed. "Bellatrix wanted the sword and I didn't have it and then she killed Crooks in front of me."

He didn't have any good response to that. He'd heard of it, from Bellatrix and Lucius, and later in half-whispered sentences by Minerva. The cat… that had happened after, but it wasn't strange that he would show up in her dreams. Her hand was stroking his back, sending shivers of pleasure all the way down to his toes. He chirped at her again.

"Thanks, Prof," she muttered with a yawn.

Soon both of them slept soundly again, this time without nightmares.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**November 1977**

**The Slytherin common room, Hogwarts**

Over the course of the next year Severus found that, unfortunately, the transformation could be triggered by strong emotion. It happened that summer when his mother died, and a few times when he was assaulted by the Marauders. All of a sudden their hexes missed their mark when he turned into an otter and quickly hid away. Somehow, by sheer dumb luck, they never seemed to catch on that he transformed. He was quick to hide when it happened, but it sometimes took him a while to manage to calm down enough to turn back.

November of his final Hogwarts year arrived and he was studying Transfiguration in a corner of the Slytherin common room when someone joined him on the sofa. Regulus Black had become an unexpected friend over the years, bonding with Severus over the stupidity of his brother.

"Look at this book! I found it in the library at home," Regulus said in that way he had, with barely restrained enthusiasm.

Severus looked at the book Regulus had given him. _Guide to Advanced Occlumency,_ by M. Barnett.

"Shielding your mind?" Severus hadn't heard of that practice before. Was it really possible to read someone else's thoughts?

"When we join the Dark Lord I think this will be very useful," Regulus continued quietly. "Want to practice with me?"

Severus read the book and they soon started practising in an abandoned study room in the dungeons. At first it had given both of them terrible headaches and neither of them had been able to throw the other one out. Severus had been furious and embarrassed when Regulus had first stumbled across Tobias Snape and his abuse, but soon it became obvious that Regulus too had had a shitty childhood, albeit of a different kind. In the end both of them resolved to never speak of it and to double down on practising so that no one else would find their weakness. At first they'd focused on keeping the other one out, shielding their minds, but it had quickly spiralled into both of them devising nasty mental traps for each other or trying to fool the other one by manipulating memories.

Luckily, or by happy accident, the Occlumency training also made it easier to keep himself from accidentally shifting into his Animagus form. It was also easier to shift back as long as he remembered to keep his shields up, although the constant temptation of nearby rivers and streams still made it difficult.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**November 1998**

**Hogsmeade, Scotland**

There was a Hogsmeade weekend coming up, and Hermione was meeting Harry and Ron in the Three Broomsticks together with Ginny. Ron had hinted at getting a room for a little while but Hermione had resisted. The thought made her queasy and she tried to push it aside, not wanting to examine in detail why.

Still, the walk down to Hogsmeade was pleasant enough. Ginny had gone ahead with Luna and a few others from her real year while Hermione trailed behind, the Professor hitching a ride on her shoulders. She didn't know why he wanted to tag along but hadn't complained when he climbed up her cloak. He was rather unobtrusive company, most of the time, but this was also the first time she would be seen with him in public. The weather was fine for Scotland in November, a bit of sunlight making it through the clouds, illuminating the gravel path and the yellowing leaves on the trees.

She started with Scrivenshaft's to pass the time, buying some quills and a new Charmed notebook for her Arithmancy project, and then meandered through the bookshop without buying anything. The Professor jumped off her shoulders and scampered off on his own, and she sought him out by the Potions journals when it was time to leave. This time he hopped by her side as they made their way along the muddy street, headed for the Three Broomsticks where she could already see her friends by the door.

Ron had filled out during training. He was broad-shouldered and muscled now compared to the lean teenager camping in the forests. He towered over her for a kiss, but she turned her head so that he ended up kissing her cheek. He frowned but she was already hugging Harry. Ginny was already talking up a storm, trying to cram ten weeks' worth of time into a couple of sentences, naturally starting with Quidditch. Harry and Ron interjected when they could, with Hermione standing a bit off to the side, the otter by her feet. It was strange, watching her friends like this. They were so natural together, while she… wasn't. Not quite. Not sharing the same interests, the same outlook on the world, and sometimes the chasm between them was hard to bridge.

"Is that an otter?" Ginny asked, turning towards Hermione.

Hermione nodded feebly. She had been unable to convince him to stay back when she was to meet with her friends, and when he stubbornly refused to listen she'd simply shrugged and told him to do as he pleased, something she was currently regretting.

"You got a pet?" Ron asked with a frown.

"Erm, sort of? There was no one else who could take care of him when he was injured and then he simply stayed."

Ginny tried to approach the otter to pet him but he quickly hid behind Hermione's legs. "Aww, he's shy! What do you call him?"

"Erm, Professor," she ventured, feeling slightly silly. They hadn't exactly agreed on a name for him in that form, if he were to go out in public. Well, it was true, anyway.

Ginny laughed. "For Professor Snape? Yeah, there's something familiar there. Might be the way he glares at me, look."

The Professor did indeed look just like a highly brassed-off otter and Hermione suspected he would have taken a hundred points from Gryffindor if he could. Well, he only had himself to blame, she thought. After all she hadn't insisted on him coming to Hogsmeade with her.

"Ew, why would you do voluntarily think of him?" Ron said, wrinkling his nose. "I'm glad the old bat's gone."

"That's not very nice, Ronald," Hermione said tightly. "I for one found his classes to be much more interesting than Slughorn's."

Ron snorted while Harry nodded, for once not joining in when discussing Professor Snape. Well, he had changed his attitude ever since that horrible day last year, when Harry had learned of his Professor's true loyalties.

"Yes, I didn't mind Potions with him," Ginny said. "He was harsh if you were a fool in class but not if you actually listened."

They went inside and actually managed to find a table, never an easy feat on Hogsmeade weekends, and settled in with a round of Butterbeer and some snacks. Hermione sat next to Ginny in the booth, with Harry on Ginny's other side and Ron on a chair at the end.

Hermione tried to bring the conversation back to safer topics. "How's Auror training, Harry?"

Harry leaned closer over the table. "It's fine, it's just that there was another attack yesterday. They're even putting us Apprentice Aurors out in the field, I think Kingsley is worried there are loose Death Eaters around."

Ginny gasped. "What happened, Harry?"

Harry frowned at his Butterbeer. "Some robberies, break-ins, a couple pub brawls that didn't look quite normal. Muggle news report a few kids being kidnapped, they were too young for Hogwarts but Kingsley said they were Muggle-born, they had it confirmed with Hogwarts Book of Admittance."

Hermione nodded, she recalled reading about it in the _Prophet_. Not the details about the Muggle-borns, but the rest. It was so unfair, that they couldn't just be left alone to enjoy life now that the war was over and the threat of Voldemort gone. It made her uneasy but she couldn't muster enough emotion to be angry about it either.

When Harry went over to the bar to fetch another round of Butterbeer for them, Ginny leaned closer. "I wanted to spend some time with Harry, would you be alright if we leave you for a while?"

Hermione sighed but managed a smile. "Don't worry, just don't miss curfew, okay? Harry can't keep you all night."

"You're a gem, and I swear I'll be back in time! Pinky promise!" Ginny wrapped an arm around her in a half hug before Harry came back and the conversation turned to lighter topics, such as Ginny's future Quidditch plans and the twins' latest business ideas. Apparently their affairs were going splendidly, they'd hired more staff and were talking about expanding to other locations and maybe even abroad, to Amsterdam and Paris.

When Harry and Ginny had retreated upstairs, Hermione was left with Ron and one grumpy otter by her feet. Ron immediately scooted closer and leaned in as if to kiss her.

Hermione shied back. "Ron…"

"Yes, 'Mione," he whispered. "I booked a room for us, come let's go upstairs. I want you." He reached for her hand and put it on his groin, rubbing it on his hard length. "Feel that? Just for you. Come on, let's go."

She yanked her hand back. "No! Stop it, Ron!"

"What, you don't want to? But you're supposed to be my girlfriend, 'Mione!"

The otter had scampered up on the chair Harry had vacated and was scowling at the redhead, as much as an otter could scowl. Hermione was both relieved to have him there, even in otter form, and completely embarrassed at having a witness to this scene. "Ron… I don't think we're good together. This isn't a good idea."

Ron flushed red but at least he sat down, creating a little more distance between them. "You're such a tease, you know that? You put out once and think that's enough? Are you frigid or are you just busy shagging everyone else in the Castle?"

"What?! No I'm not!" She could feel her cheeks heat up with anger and embarrassment.

"Oh yeah? You couldn't wait to shag Harry in the tent, and now you're just making the rounds at Hogwarts, aren't you?" He scowled and tried to reach for her again.

Hermione found herself on her feet, her hair hissing with magical discharge. "You're such an arse, Ronald Bilius Weasley! I don't know what I ever saw in you! Leave me alone!"

Not caring that half the pub was watching, she turned on her heel and stormed out, not listening to his protests. The otter caught up with her by the door, and although it was completely mortifying to have an audience to Ron's advances she was relieved the Professor wasn't in his usual form, sneering down his long nose at her with disdain over such a display.

~o~o~x~o~o~

That night when she'd gone to bed, she felt the foot end of the bed dip as the Professor jumped up. She lay curled up in the middle of the bed, facing the far wall, but he clumsily navigated around her to end up next to her pillow. He chirped, once, and curled up in a ball near where her hands rested, not quite touching.

"Thanks," she muttered, not quite sure whatever for, but it felt right anyway. Slowly she lifted a hand and put it on his back, feeling the soft, dense fur and his quick breathing. He didn't seem to mind, letting her run her fingers through his fur almost as if he enjoyed it.


	5. Headmistress

**Late November 1998**

**Hogwarts, Scotland**

Hermione gave the password to the Gargoyle who blinked slowly at her before shifting to reveal the staircase. The current Headmistress favoured Scottish words for passwords, and Hermione suspected she varied the difficulty based on her mood. In that case, the current password _Auchentoshan_ might be an indication of slight irritation. November was almost over, threatening to give way for Christmas before she was ready for holiday cheer and Christmas shopping.

"You wanted to see me, Headmistress?"

The Headmistress sat at the desk, writing something. She looked worn out, tired and stressed, but she looked up when Hermione entered and waved at the chair in front of the desk. "Tell me everything about that day in the Potions classroom, Miss Granger."

Hermione shifted in her seat. She'd already made her report, that same day the explosion happened, claiming that Professor Snape disappeared without a trace. "As I told you before, Professor, there was a big explosion when Eustace put the wrong ingredients in his cauldron, and Professor Snape took most of the blast. When I went to check on him, only his robes remained." She fell silent, hoping it would be enough.

The Headmistress sighed, removed her reading glasses and rubbed her temples. "You've picked up an otter, I noticed."

"Yes, Headmistress."

"A bit unusual for a pet, isn't it?" Her eyebrow rose in a fair imitation of the Professor's usual expression.

Hermione tried a smile. "He's decent company, you know, after Crooks." She tried to hold back the tears, it still wasn't easy.

Professor McGonagall looked taken aback. "Oh, of course, I'm so sorry, Miss Granger."

She called for an elf to bring some tea and shortbread for them both, and gestured for Hermione to join her by the large windows where there was a leather couch and two armchairs. Tartan plaids lay across the couch and one of the chairs. Placing the tea service on the low sofa table Professor McGonagall sighed again and looked out the window before returning her gaze to Hermione.

"I'm going to be open with you, Miss Granger. I don't think your otter is what — who — you claim."

Hermione didn't know what to say. She sat stock still instead, fighting the urge to disappear into the couch pillows. Several of the portraits of past Headmasters had dropped their acts of feigned disinterest and were now gazing down on them from their frames, one or two moving through the frames to see better.

"I've known he was an Animagus for a long time, you see. I think he started practising when he was a student, but it wasn't until some years after he began teaching that I spotted his form. It took me a while to actually confirm that it was him, but I did find out. He thought he was sneaky but I've been a cat for way longer than he has Transformed and otters aren't exactly known for subtlety."

Hermione snorted and took a sip of her tea, relaxing a little. Well, for an otter, he was actually a rather sneaky one. She still didn't understand how he made it in or out of her rooms like that.

The Headmistress pulled herself up taller and eyed her sternly. "But what I don't understand now, Miss Granger, is why you're hiding the fact that you have Severus Snape in your rooms masquerading as your otter familiar? Why haven't you handed him over to Poppy or myself?"

Hermione sighed and sank back into the armchair. There was nothing to it, she wasn't about to start lying about it. "I'm sorry, Professor. I never wanted to lie about this, but he insisted."

"Do go on," Professor McGonagall said and took a piece of shortbread.

"When it happened I shooed everyone out from the room. I couldn't believe it had gone so wrong. When I lifted his teaching robes I found the otter there instead, and through simple yes-and-no questions I managed to help him with the wounds from the explosion. When I asked if I could go get Madam Pomfrey or yourself he shook his head, so I asked if he wanted to come with me instead and he nodded. I'm not sure if he chooses to stay an otter or if he can't change back after the accident, but I have asked him."

Professor McGonagall sighed and dabbed the corner of her eye with a white handkerchief. "That stubborn boy, always choosing the hard way. We could have helped him." Some of the portraits nodded in agreement.

Hermione shook her head. "I saw what he looked like in the beginning of term, Headmistress. He looked awful, miserable. The spark was gone. Now, as an otter, he seems a little bit better. Maybe he needs this?"

Professor McGonagall appeared to think this over, sipping her tea. "Yes, he has been rather aloof after his return. I had thought it would help, to come back here again, but it hasn't worked so far."

"Not so strange, perhaps, after last year." Hermione tried not to think about it, but of course, as usual, that didn't work. She took a deep breath, trying to will away the images of dead friends, of Bellatrix in the Manor, of Nagini in Godric's Hollow.

"Yes, yes, it was an awful year, for all of us." The Headmistress looked out the window again, where parts of the Forest could be seen across the fields. The trees had shed their leaves, leaving only the evergreens to provide a bit of colour. "You may be right. Still, I've had to call in Horace again. He said he'll do this school year unless we find someone better suited but after that he's definitely out of here for good. And he won't do the hospital brewing."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Professor Slughorn is coming back? With all due respect, Headmistress, I think he's a bit too lenient. He doesn't teach us much other than what's in the books."

"Well, until you get your otter to change back, there aren't any good alternatives, Miss Granger." The Headmistress raised a brow at her. "Alright, here's what I suggest. If he wants to stay an otter and in your company, I will allow it for now. I owe him that much, at the very least. Just remember that the more time passes the harder it is to change back."

"But Pettigrew managed after twelve years as a rat," Hermione couldn't help but to interject, thinking back to that confrontation in her third year in the Shrieking Shack.

Professor McGonagall shuddered. "I nearly caught him a few times in cat form, too. If I'd only known… Yes you're right, he did, but the general consensus is that after a year in your animal form it will be nearly impossible to change back."

Hermione nodded, feeling relief coursing through her. She wouldn't have to betray his trust for now by handing him over to be Transformed back against his will.

"One other thing, I want you to take over the brewing for Poppy, Miss Granger. You're the best option we have and you can see that as penance for keeping him away from us." Professor McGonagall gave her a slight smile, softening her words.

"Of course, Headmistress. I'll help out." That, at least, was something she could do.

"Keep me updated, please, Miss Granger."

She nodded again and left the Tower, feeling both embarrassed and relieved that the secret was out.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**Early September 1998**

**The Shack, Inverness**

Rain had been pouring down for the past few weeks and they were all miserable. Rabastan was sick of the company but there wasn't any good alternative around. Not like he could just pop by Diagon Alley, or swing by the Malfoys, or even go home to his own place. Blasted Aurors everywhere. At least he'd got a new wand, from a dealer in Knockturn Alley. It wasn't as good as his Ollivander wand but it worked in a pinch. They'd taken it out for target practice a couple of times, both in the Muggle and the Wizarding world. It felt good to do something again.

"I know how we can get to the little Mudblood in the Castle," Antonin said. "Her family." He was cooking, if one could call it that, heating up a can of baked beans, frying some eggs and toasting bread. Well, at least he did better eggs than Greyback.

"They're not there," Rabastan protested. "The Dark Lord sent me to her house last winter with Rookwood but it was completely abandoned." He had been less than pleased at being commanded to go hunt Muggles but even more so at the Dark Lord's unhappiness when they returned empty-handed. It had been quite painful.

"Think she hid them?"

Rabastan only sneered and took another sip of beer. It was Muggle, but pretty decent. Strong, at least. It felt absurd, being reduced to this. Hiding in a shack in the middle of Nowhere, Scotland, having to avoid doing magic and forsaking all comforts of the life he was used to. If it hadn't been for the beer he would have turned himself in already.

Greyback approached slowly. It must be close to the full moon, he looked feral. Well, more than usual. "She had an ugly beast of a cat, too. Anyone know what happened to it?"

"Beats me," Rabastan said. "Never heard of no cat."

Antonin slammed the pot on the table and dug in himself before letting the others have a shot.

"Well, the bitch has been at Hogwarts, or in that Muggle house, or at the Weasley's place," Tony said, scratching his by now scruffy beard. "If the cat isn't at Hogwarts or at her home…"

"Worth a look," Greyback said, nodding slowly. "Either there or with her parents, then. I'll go sniff around."

~o~o~x~o~o~

**1979-80**

**Britain**

When he joined the Death Eaters he kept very quiet about his alternative identity. After all, it wasn't very useful for torturing others, extracting information, or anything else apart from hunting for fish and various aquatic potion ingredients. He did use his otter form to good effect though when working on his Mastery, obtaining ingredients of much higher quality than most were able to purchase.

The Occlumency helped with keeping his feelings in check, under wraps and hidden away, and when things got bad he stole away and Transformed for some time, letting his pain and hatred and anguish wash away in a stream. He still didn't understand why he ended up an otter, but that didn't mean he wouldn't make use of the form.

He needed both skills when he heard that Regulus had died, trying to escape from the Dark Lord if rumour was to be believed. The fool, had he really thought he could outwit the Dark Lord? It felt almost as a betrayal, Reg leaving him behind like that, keeping secrets from him. He doubled down on Occlumency training, perfecting his memory shields and how to weave false memories into a seamless whole. It was a way to keep focused, to distract himself, but he did find it ironic to have ended up with a visualisation of a lake and river system for hiding his memories. He'd even started linking his true memories with otter senses, using scents and the feeling of currents in his fur to navigate between them.

To his surprise, his Occlumency worked. Neither the Dark Lord nor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore had been able to see the things he needed to hide. Both of them believed themselves to be stronger Legilimens than he was an Occlumens, the Dark Lord through brute force and Albus through manipulation and the Vow he'd extracted from him, and both of them obviously thought Severus' Occlusion was strong enough to keep their adversary out. He'd been tasked with stealing memories from lesser targets by the Dark Lord, and with manipulating witnesses by Albus, and so over time he became well versed in the mind arts.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**November 1998**

**Hogwarts, Scotland**

Hermione marched straight back to her quarters after seeing the Headmistress. Luckily the Professor was dozing on his stolen pillow, looking quite comfortable by the fire.

"Come, I need to find a lab to brew in," Hermione told her reluctant companion. "I was ordered to help Poppy stock the Infirmary with potions. They're bringing Slughorn back but he refuses to do it so the Headmistress asked me to fill in."

The otter looked at her. He raised an eyebrow in an almost perfect Professor Snape way.

"This is all your fault, you know," she told him, hands on her hips. "The Headmistress knows who you are. And we're getting Slughorn back just when Potions class was getting interesting again with you. I'm sure she assigned me to brew just because I said you didn't want to turn back."

The otter had frozen on the spot, looking up at her warily. When she held out an arm for him he reluctantly scrambled up to perch on her shoulders, and they made their way over to the Infirmary.

Poppy was busy tending to a couple of second-year boys who seemed to have managed to stick themselves together, while a few other cots in the room were occupied with what looked like a post-Quidditch incident.

"Anything urgent, Hermione?" the matron called out.

Hermione smiled. It felt good to be back, somehow. They'd worked well together during those hectic first weeks after the Battle. "No, just the potions inventory list, Poppy."

"Right, be with you in a minute, please wait in my office."

Hermione nodded and made it to Poppy's office with the Professor still perched on her shoulders. His whiskers were tickling her throat as she walked. She sat down on a chair and started leafing through one of the Healer magazines left on the matron's desk.

"Sorry for the wait, those two had been practising Charms a little too enthusiastically," Poppy said when she came bustling into the office. "What can I do for you, Hermione? How are you holding up now, being back here and all?"

Hermione smiled. "No, I was merely asked by Professor McGonagall to help you stock the Infirmary potions."

"Ah, perfect. I haven't had the time to make a list but I know I'm running short on Burn Paste, Calming Draught, Pepper-Up and Contraceptive. Would you be able to handle that? Terrible what happened to Severus, I was so sad to hear it. Not even anything left to bury! Imagine that, surviving the war only to be killed in his own classroom. I can't imagine what would have happened if he hadn't protected the class."

The matron looked to be on the verge of tears and Hermione didn't know what to say. Having the Professor himself perched on her shoulder didn't help matters much, either. She wrote down the potions Poppy had mentioned on a piece of parchment and rose to leave. "Yes, I'll get this brewed for you," she said instead.

"Thank you, Hermione. Please start with the Calming Draught and Pepper-Up, in that case. Lovely otter you have there, by the way," Poppy continued. "I'm glad you found some other companion after Crookshanks."

Hermione tried her best to smile, and fled.

~o~o~x~o~o~

Hermione walked cautiously down to the dungeons. Potions classes had been cancelled for a week, and after that they had an Auror on loan from the Ministry for a little while until the Headmistress could find a more permanent solution.

"I'm not sure about where to go brew, the classroom doesn't seem like the right place," she told the otter as they neared the Potions classroom.

The otter squeaked at her in response and started trying to clamber down her arm. She let him down gently. Instead of heading for the classroom he went down the corridor to his office, though, squeaking when she was slow to catch up. He put a paw on the door, and when she pulled the handle it opened quietly. Instead of dwelling in the office he went straight through it, again squeaking at her to catch up, and put his paw on a part of the wall between two low shelves. The outline of a doorway shimmered into view, and she stepped through into what was obviously his own lab.

The room was not very large, but well-equipped. There was an island workbench in the middle with storage for cutting boards, knives and other utensils underneath. Two perpendicular walls had room for simmering cauldrons, and on the other side of the workbench there was a small writing desk next to a couple of bookshelves filled with reference tomes and notebooks. Everything was clean but well-worn, cauldrons and equipment bearing scuffs and scratches from many years of use, and the wooden work table had plenty of marks from ingredient preparation.

Hermione pulled out two medium-sized copper cauldrons, cutting boards and knives under the Professor's watchful eye.

"Now where can I get the ingredients?"

She felt a bit silly but followed the squeaking otter when he moved to a door she hadn't noticed. It opened to the storeroom, not the same he used for classes but with a sinking feeling she realised she'd been there before.

"Professor…?"

The otter looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

"I… I'm sorry I stole from you back in my second year. Boomslang skin and bicorn horn. I'll pay you back."

The otter froze. After a long while he shook himself and chirped at her again, as if to tell her to get a move on already. She wasn't sure it meant she was forgiven, or if he simply didn't care. She quickly pulled out the ingredients she needed for the Calming Draught and Pepper-Up, easily navigating his organisation system based on taxonomy and effect rather than alphabetised like the classroom storage cabinet.

After taking a deep breath and putting her hair up in a messy braid she dove into the potions fumes, chopping, grinding, measuring and stirring under the watchful paw of the Professor who was perched on the end of the workbench. He didn't say anything, and after the first hour or so he relaxed, putting his head on his paws, still watching her. It was oddly soothing, having him there, while she let her hands work and her thoughts wander where they pleased.

Wiping the sweat from her brow with her sleeve she stretched and went to fetch some more vials for the final batch. She'd missed dinner, but the Infirmary potions were all up-to-date. When she asked the Professor how best to transport them he hopped over to the Floo and chirped at her again, so she followed his lead. Poppy was grateful and told her to make notes of the ingredients she needed to stock up on so that they could place an order for them in Hogsmeade, and then the school matron insisted on calling an elf to provide some dinner when Hermione made it back to her own rooms.

That night she slept well, curled up around the otter, feeling pleased with herself over a job well done.


	6. Morning Post

**Christmas break, December 1998**

**Hogwarts, Scotland**

Hermione looked out over the grounds, covered in a layer of snow that was still thin enough for tufts of grass to break through, under clouds that hung low enough to almost scrape the highest tower. She was on her way from the library where she'd spent most of the day despite it being Christmas eve, and had stopped by one of the window alcoves on her way back. The bleakness of the day meshed well with her mood.

The Hogwarts Express had left two days prior, filled with happy kids going home for the holidays. Home to friends and family, to gifts and laughter. After what happened with Ron there was no way she could stand going to the Burrow, where Harry was planning to spend the holidays. He had invited her, half-heartedly, but both of them knew she should politely decline. Ron had actually sent an owl a week after the Hogsmeade weekend with a half apology, but she knew very well he'd been forced to do it by Harry and Ginny and that she and Ron needed some time apart for his tempers to cool down. She was sure he would see reason, eventually, at least as soon as he found another more suitable girl to impress, but he did know how to hold a grudge in the meantime. Besides, Harry and Ron wouldn't get much time off from their Auror training, so she'd anyway have most of the holidays to herself. Ginny had asked about her plans, too, but nodded in understanding when Hermione declined again. The younger girl had accepted their breakup, if that was what it was, but she too knew what her mother would say if Hermione would dare to show her face in the Weasley home.

With a sigh she turned back to her rooms. They'd have a Christmas lunch the following day, in the Great Hall. A few students were staying, most of them for reasons related to the War. She spent the evening much like she did most evenings, curled up with a book on the couch in front of the fireplace, the otter resting on his pillow nearby. There wasn't much else to do, she was caught up on the brewing for Poppy and had done her homework already. Not always doing more than requested on her essays meant she had more time to herself, but that only meant she had more time to obsess about everything else. It was hard, figuring out the balance. She kept herself busy with other things, such as semi-regular teas with the Headmistress where they discussed the future of Hogwarts after the war, and she had also assisted Kingsley Shacklebolt with some research and general ideas for some reforms he wanted to do at the Ministry.

Christmas Eve had been a special day in the Granger household. Her parents always took the day off and closed their dental practice for the holidays, something their staff appreciated. Since Hermione's maternal grandmother was French they usually did a French-style Réveillon dinner on Christmas Eve, followed by a traditional English Christmas the next day.

When she went to brush her teeth her feelings caught up with her, triggered — again — by the special brand of toothpaste her parents had all but insisted on. She missed them, missed normalcy and family and childhood. Her grandmother had passed four years ago, her grandfather the year before that, so Christmas was anyway not the same anymore. She'd thought that after the end of the war things would go back to normal. Instead she had lost even more since then. Her parents, her friends.

She stumbled into the bedroom and flopped down gracelessly on the bed, still crying. After a while she felt the bed dip again and vaguely heard a chirp.

"Sorry," she muttered. "I just miss them."

He chirped again and nudged her hand with his nose. She guessed she wasn't making much sense and tried to elaborate.

"My parents. I Obliviated them… you know, after Professor Dumbledore. I sent them to Australia with new memories, they don't know they have a daughter anymore. Bill and I went there this summer but we couldn't break the Obliviation."

He stilled, letting her arms surround him, and slowly they both drifted off to sleep.

~o~o~x~o~o~

When they woke up the next morning there was a fine dusting of snow covering the roofs they could see from the window. A house-elf brought them tea and kippers, respectively, and they settled on the couch in front of the fire.

"Happy Christmas, Professor." She handed him a carefully wrapped present in dark green paper with a golden ribbon and almost laughed at his look. He seemed completely flabbergasted, looking between the present and her as if not believing his eyes.

"Go on, open it."

He pulled the ribbon, and the package unravelled to show a carefully folded blanket in deep blue. When he prodded it with a paw it unfolded a bit which made the silvery geometric pattern visible across the blanket and around the border.

"I hope it's okay, it's merino wool mainly with some Puffskein fibre added for magical strength, and runes are for protection, restful sleep and warmth. I tried to find something you'd have use of when… when you turn back. Sorry it's a bit uneven, I set it up on a magical loom but it was a bit tricky to get the spells right."

The Professor was still staring at the blanket, as if transfixed. Hermione was starting to get nervous about his lack of response. What if she'd completely overstepped their bond as Professor and student? Even if he was, currently, an otter moonlighting as her sort-of-familiar? She bit her lip, trying to stop herself from babbling.

To her utter surprise, when he broke from his almost-trance he merely chirped at her, almost sounding annoyed, and then he whirled around and somehow disappeared, seemingly straight through the wall.

She stared at the wall for a while but when he didn't return she returned to her breakfast and the small pile of presents awaiting her, piled up next to the fireplace by the elves some time during the night. It did cheer her up a little, seeing that she wasn't completely forgotten by her friends, even if the otter was behaving erratically even for him.

The Twins had sent her a box with new things from their shop. She lifted the lid cautiously and sighed with relief when nothing exploded in her face. There was a leaflet inside. She picked it up and instantly got curious. _Weasleys__' Book-Replicating Box — Add__ Parchment and Pixie Dust, Copies Any Book. Hermione, this is a prototype, please test it for us? F&G._ Putting it aside, she opened Ginny's gift which turned out to be a beauty kit with some instructions for make-up charms, a few hair potions and some jars and pots she didn't recognise at first glance. The note read _Now that you__'re free of my git of a brother, I hope this will help you find someone better! - xxx, Ginny._

Harry had sent her a stack of books from the Black library, gift vouchers for a Muggle theatre company and a note as well. _I was planning to get you a pet but then I remembered you already have an otter. Why an otter, by the way? And then I was thinking we could all go to the theatre. You used to talk about going with your parents and I__'ve never been, so I was hoping we could go some day when you've excelled at your NEWTs. Ron's not invited, Ginny forced me to add. Love, Harry._

Luna had sent her a bracelet with odd-looking charms attached which apparently were good to ward off Wrackspurts, and Neville had sent her a potted plant that snapped viciously as soon as she opened the package. Hermione resolved to go ask Professor Sprout to house it, since it was probably rare and useful somehow. To her surprise, Ron had also sent her a package. She opened it cautiously but it only contained some fudge from Honeydukes and a set of slightly better than average quills, not very different from what he always used to give her.

A few Professors had sent her things as well. An Arithmancy treatise from Professor Vector, an intricately charmed notebook from Professor Flitwick, and from the Headmistress she received an old book on Wizarding etiquette and a note with a voucher for Madam Malkin's Robes and the instruction to buy herself something grown-up and elegant.

A soft rustle made her look up. The otter was back, and carrying something green and leafy in his mouth. He hopped up on the coffee table and put it down in front of her before chirping impatiently at her.

"Is that for me?" She reached for the package slowly, and he pushed it towards her with his nose. He chirped again. It appeared to be wrapped in leaves, tied with reed fibres of some sort. She unwrapped it carefully, folding back the leaves, and gasped when she saw the three pearls inside. They were different sizes and slightly uneven, one with a slight rose sheen and the two others more yellow in colour.

"You found these?" Natural river pearls were magical, easy to imbue with powerful charms, and highly valuable. She couldn't believe he'd found some… and that he'd waste them on her.

He nodded, once, and chirped in response. She pounced, scooping him up in a hug.

"Thank you, thank you! They're wonderful!"

Suddenly she realised exactly who she was hugging and set him down abruptly, still grinning widely. He shook himself and stalked off to the corner by the fire where he had his makeshift nest, pulling the blanket along with him. She settled in with a book, one from Harry, and ended up reading sections out loud to the Professor who seemed to enjoy it as well.

~o~o~x~o~o~

The rest of the holiday break passed quickly. The Great Hall was decorated for the season with plenty of garlands, Charmed snowflakes and baubles. All remaining students and staff had meals at the same table, mixed up without regard to House or student/teacher status, and she had several interesting discussions with the Professors who stayed behind about anything from Muggle theatre to ancient Persian curses. She didn't see much of the otter but a few times he joined her at night, sleeping nestled in her blankets.

She'd even been invited to the staff New Years celebration in the Staff Room, where Hooch, Poppy and Professor Sprout got too drunk on Firewhisky and started singing more and more explicit drinking songs until they'd chased off all the male members of staff. As soon as the last one left, Hooch immediately sobered up and asked for the time, hooting when Poppy confirmed they'd managed a new school record. "It's no fun when Severus isn't here," Hooch had said and both the other ladies had nodded. When Hermione had asked, Hooch had said that Professor Snape used to complain about anatomically impossible situations, grammar, plot, or whatever else he could come up with in an effort to discredit the songs, and that the evenings usually ended with him one-upping them by telling even worse stories that made even Professor Sprout blush. Hermione had laughed, happy to learn of the older witches' antics, but later she couldn't stop thinking about that side of him, yet another facet added to the picture of her dour Professor now masquerading as her otter familiar.

~o~o~x~o~o~

The new term started and Hogwarts filled up with students again. It was a bit jarring to return to her regular student status after the break, being relegated back to Gryffindor Table after sharing meals with the Professors. Ginny had apparently enjoyed her holidays although she said Mrs Weasley had been sad over Percy, and even the Twins had managed to be serious for well over an hour when they talked about their brother. She also reported that Ron had been suspiciously missing from the Burrow for quite a lot of meals, and said that she thought he had found a witch or two to date, even if it wasn't likely to be a very permanent arrangement. Hermione found, to her relief, that she didn't mind him dating. It would take the heat off his focus on her, and hopefully he — and his mother — would see that Hermione wasn't the right witch for him.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**September 1998, pre-accident**

**The Great Hall, Hogwarts**

The Great Hall filled with the flutter of owl wings as the post arrived. Severus watched the spectacle dispassionately as an owl delivered the day's issue of the _Prophet_ into Filius' bowl of porridge, coating the professors closest to him in oatmeal sludge. He took another sip of his tea. At least that was a benefit of the ostracism by his colleagues. No one wanted to sit close to him these days so he often found a chair at the end of the table, as close to the staff entrance as possible. A large owl was carrying a parcel for the Gryffindor table.

He watched with detached disinterest as the students opened their mail. No one ever sent anything to him, at any rate. The large package was deposited on the Deputy Head Girl's plate. Miss Granger. She looked confused, and Severus was pleased to see her cast a few diagnostics over it before she pulled the strings to open the box. At least some of his teachings had stuck, he mused, or perhaps it was Mad-Eye's _Constant Vigilance_.

A shriek shattered the usual clamour of breakfast, followed by uneasy stillness as everyone turned to look. Severus had been distracted by Sybill asking him to pass the juice, but now his gaze snapped back to the Gryffindor table where Miss Granger had just looked into the box. The brown-haired witch hopped up from the table and ran out of the room.

He acted on instinct and had made it down from the dais before anyone else even started moving again. Miss Weasley looked down into the box before quickly snapping it shut with the knife she was already holding. The redheaded girl looked notably nauseous, and looked up when Severus approached.

"It's her birthday today, Professor," Miss Weasley said quietly. "I thought Ron had sent her something. Gods, who _does_ something like this?"

He cast several other diagnostics over the box before cautiously re-opening the lid. Minerva had walked up beside him and was sternly telling everyone else to back off, enforcing her words with some well-placed shield charms.

In the box, an orange half-Kneazle lay still and silent, his fur slashed with countless angry red marks. It was all too obvious that he was beyond help. The cat looked oddly familiar but he couldn't work out where he'd seen it before.

"Crookshanks," Miss Weasley confirmed. "Hermione's familiar, he was at the Burrow with us."

"Gods, the poor dear," Minerva said. It was unclear whom she was referring to, the cat or Miss Granger. She looked up at Severus. "I will alert the Aurors."

"Has the bird left already?" Severus asked Miss Weasley.

Minerva gasped. "Good thinking, Severus."

Miss Weasley nodded, however. "Yes sir, it was a standard post owl. It might have gone to the Owlery?"

He cast several more diagnostics on the box and its contents but nothing conclusive came up. There was no obvious Dark residue lingering over the cat and it was too badly mangled to see if the wounds were caused by a hex or something else.

Over the course of the next week his thoughts kept returning to the girl and the cat. Minerva didn't manage to catch the owl. The Aurors were mainly useless and didn't add much of value to what he'd already learnt. He'd avoided looking at her earlier, too uncomfortable by the events of _that_ day and the summer where she'd saved him, first in the Shack and then during his trial, but now his gaze inevitably strayed to her if he was too long in her vicinity. She looked hollow, empty. She stopped interacting with the Gryffindors at the table during meals and she barely acknowledged his questions in class.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**Early December 1998**

**The Shack, Middle Of Nowhere, Inverness**

Greyback had a vision, that much was clear. Rabastan had to admit it was freeing, to have someone tell him what to do to get revenge on the Wizarding world that had killed his family and friends and taken away his whole life.

Over the course of the autumn they'd managed to get in touch with several other disgruntled wizards who had ended up drawing the short straw when the Dark Lord fell. A few Snatchers and some junior Death Eaters had joined them in some raids on various Wizarding targets. Greyback was talking about attacking Diagon Alley again.

Still, Rabastan was relieved that the werewolf — so far — had chosen to spend his Moon Nights away from the tiny cottage in Inverness. He didn't much fancy becoming a werewolf, and there weren't any good hiding places there. Greyback had scoffed at him, saying he fancied his prey younger, _much_ younger, and leered in a way that made Rabastan distinctly uncomfortable. He didn't want to know what the wolf had been up to, but the occasional article in the _Daily Prophet_ told him all he ever needed to know, and more. Young Mudbloods and Halfbloods were disappearing, all over the country, and the locations were just a little too conveniently correlated with Greyback's reported outings.

He sighed and reached for another beer. No, it was better not to know everything. He'd never been one to plan, to scheme and plot. He simply didn't care enough. Dolph had been the plotter of them, pushing to join the Death Eaters, scheming with the others, planning raids and other such activities. When Dear Bella got involved — after their arranged marriage — she became the driving force behind them, almost competing with Dolph for who could be the most daring. Rabastan had never cared much for Muggles or Mudbloods; the latter were disruptive and obnoxious and didn't have any clues about how to behave in proper society, while the first group was just too large, but he was more inclined to keeping them at a distance instead of taking more drastic action. Still, sometimes it felt good to beat someone up, to burn down some cars or a house, or to partake in the pleasures offered during the revels.

That life felt distant, now that he was reduced to existing on the periphery of everything, subsisting on tinned Muggle food and beer. Rabastan had managed to figure out how to make pasta with sauce from another of those Muggle jars, so they had a bit of variety at least, and he had almost forgotten what proper house-elf cooking tasted like.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**January 1999**

**Hogwarts, Scotland**

Severus hopped up on the window sill and looked out over the grounds where a thin layer of snow still shrouded everything in white. It was early Sunday morning, and he had plans for the day, if he could remember them later.

It was odd, life as an otter. Sometimes he lost days at a time, when the otter took over completely. He had woken up a few times nestled in the Deputy Head Girl's blankets, with her snoring on the pillow beside him, without recalling how he got there. The otter seemed to consider physical contact with his involuntary host to be completely natural, and he was never able to freak out about it for long before the otter took over and told him to take it easy and enjoy what he had. When he went outside the otter instincts usually took over as well, but then it was easier to remain aware, if only as a passive observer.

He did usually stay conscious when they went down to his labs, but it was getting harder and harder even there as she got more confident in what she did. He could see that she was beginning to find the same kind of joy he did from brewing, although in her case it wasn't the creative process of creating new and improved potions, but rather the repetitive motions of chopping, grinding, stirring to create something nearing perfection. He'd been pleased to see that he was able to adjust her technique even in otter form, via chirps and body language where possible.

They'd settled in a routine where she went down once or twice a week to the lab to brew. She kept the workspace tidy, much as he did, although she had moved a few cauldrons down from the highest shelves since she was that much shorter than him.

When she still hadn't stirred fifteen minutes later, he decided to do something about it. Hopping up on the bed he squeaked at her to wake up, but she didn't stir until he put his whiskers in her face. Useful things, those. After some impatient chirping she managed to understand that he wanted her to get dressed, and he curled up by the fireplace to wait for her. An elf popped in with some sandwiches for her, wrapped carefully for their trip. Somehow he managed to make them understand what he wanted even as an otter.

After some more general coaxing she seemed to understand that he wanted to go outside, and soon they were trudging down the lawn. He hitched a ride on her shoulders, taking advantage of her — currently — longer legs. The morning was cold and clear, a few stars fading away now that the sun was rising, and the only sounds heard were the puffs of her breaths and the creaking of her boots. They'd worked out a rudimentary signalling system and so he guided her deeper into the Forest. To her credit she didn't hesitate. He was quite sure he would have balked at following someone blindly had the roles been reversed, but soon they had reached their first destination. A small clearing opened up next to a stream, but that wasn't the reason for their visit. Chirping at her to stop, he hopped down and moved over to the nearby bushes and waited for her to catch up. Soon enough she saw the prize, a small group of Leaping Toadstools, and managed to pluck them. They were tricky to catch but slowed down a lot in the cold, so winter was an excellent time to hunt them. Pomona had a few in her greenhouses but wild ones were more potent for Potions.

Miss Granger fished out her sandwiches after securing the Toadstools. He was pleased to see her fish out a herring kept in stasis from her small basket, and quickly wolfed it down. That sort of consideration still felt strange to him.

They went deeper into the Forest, onto the Centaur trails. Although he had had a cordial relationship with them as a wizard, meeting them occasionally on his trips through the Forest to forage for ingredients, he'd appreciated getting to know them better as an otter. They'd taken him to their camp several times, letting him share their fires and spoils of the hunt, and in return he'd offered them fish and freshwater mussels. They seemed to know who he was, or used to be, but didn't make a big deal out of it. He found it was easier to stay centred with them and not lose himself, since they talked to both the otter and the wizard.

No Centaurs made themselves known this time. After another few spots where they found magical mistletoe, Motherwort and a couple of fairies which the Head Girl promptly Stunned to rid them of their wings, they returned to the Castle, feeling both tired and satisfied with the day.


	7. Valentines

**February 14, 1999, evening**

**Hogwarts, Scotland**

While most of the school was busy dancing in the Great Hall Hermione was in a foul mood. She'd been roped in to plan the blessed event of the Valentine's Ball by the Headmistress in collusion with the _actual_ Head Boy and Girl, since, as Head Girl Waincroft put it, _it__'s not as if you're the real Head Girl, Hermione, so clearly you have the time_, and so she'd spent too many evenings with the sixth-year Prefects who had also been roped in to help. At least she'd been able to veto most of the Lockhart-esque pink heart fountains, flying cherubs and other such atrocities, and she wasn't required to supervise the happy event either. Something about the whole thing made her angry, and she didn't really want to acknowledge the fact that it just made her feel lonelier. No one sent any Valentines cards to her, after all, no one would ask her to dance, not that she wanted to dance with them anyway, but it still stung that she didn't have a choice.

She stalked back to her rooms, her school robes billowing behind her almost as well as Professor Snape's robes used to do when he strode down the hallways of the Castle. He looked up from his pillow by the fire when she entered.

"Come on," she told her odd companion. "Let's go _celebrate._"

With the help of Harry's map, which she'd borrowed before leaving for Hogwarts back in August, they made the trek down to the kitchens without encountering anyone. The Professor padded along behind her, audibly grumbling something, his claws clicking against the flagstones. She tickled the pear and ushered him in to a room where a sea of house-elves was staring up at them, frozen in place with whatever kitchen utensils they had been wielding. Soup was trickling down a spoon onto a short elf's head, but no one moved.

"Um, hi?" Hermione said. "We'd like to ask if we could bother you for some food that we could take with us."

"Yes?" a squeaky voice answered. "What does Miss Hats and Professor Potions wants?"

Hermione cringed at the slightly accusatory title she apparently still had with the elves. "Would you be able to prepare a meal for us? Some fresh fish for the Professor and something light for me?"

The elves looked up, almost as one, froze for a moment and then started whispering amongst themselves in a high-pitched language that sounded nothing like English. After a while one of them sidled over to them. "We fix, Miss Hats. Meal for two, no? No hats?"

"Thank you! I won't give you any hats. Promise." Hermione said, still a bit wary and embarrassed over asking the elves for a favour. It was obvious, however, that they enjoyed the challenge. And the lack of knitted hats. Not that they would have worked, she'd discovered later. Although she did have the intention of freeing them she wasn't their rightful Master so her leaving clothes out didn't make any difference. Elves picked up clothes for cleaning all the time, after all. She shook her head, once again coming to the conclusion that she didn't understand how the magical world really worked.

"Yesyes! We fix! No more hats!"

Before long they were ushered back out through the door, with a hamper full of food and drink. Hermione pulled out the map again, and when the coast was clear they scurried off to the fifth floor. Hermione opened the door to the Prefect's bathroom, and they slipped in.

The otter chirped in apparent pleasure at the sight of so much water. Hermione felt the ripple of magic as the Castle adjusted to its new guest, creating a shallow end with a series of ledges and water bubbling up at the top, like a tiny waterfall. The Professor didn't waste any time, bounding across the floor and slipping into the water with a snort. Hermione laughed and went to change into her Muggle-style bathing suit. When she slipped into the water, the otter emerged from the waterfall and chirped at her. She laughed when he swam around her, tickling her legs with his tail as he passed like a tiny torpedo on a mission, looping around her only to do it again.

The elves silently popped in with a small table laden with fish and a small salad. A bowl of fresh water for the otter and a glass of pumpkin juice completed the picture. Hermione hopped up to sit on the edge, dangling her feet in the water, and dug into her meal. After another few loops in the water the Professor hopped up to join her, and apparently found the meal just as appealing as she did. They ate with relish, Hermione happy to discover a small chocolate pudding for dessert. It was almost plate-licking-worthy good, she decided, scraping the plate clean with her spoon to preserve a tiny bit of dignity. The otter had finished his fish as well and seemed eager to jump into the water again.

She smiled at him. "Thanks for coming, Professor. I think this is the best Valentine's day I've ever had."

He chirped, and she couldn't help but to think he was agreeing with her.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**February 1999**

**Hogsmeade, Scotland**

Their movement was growing. It made Rabastan oddly proud, to be one of the lead figures for it, even if Tony and the wolf did most of the plotting. They'd even managed to infiltrate Hogwarts, finally, via a few minor Death Eaters and their families and also through some younger students whose older brothers were killed during the Battle. In fact, that was why he was currently in Hogsmeade, waiting with Tony in the Hog's Head for two students to join them for a drink and a bit of a chat. They wore shabby Muggle clothes under even shabbier cloaks, and Rabastan thought not even his own mother would have recognised him.

They were also starting to infiltrate the Ministry, again. One of their latest contacts was a young witch by the name of Edgecombe who worked as a low-level clerk in the Games and Sports department and seemed to have a bone or two to pick with the Granger chit in particular. They had also discussed contacting that odious witch Umbridge who used to lead the Muggle-Born Registration Commission and still held a minor position at the Ministry despite all she had done. Tony had refused to bring her in unless they had a strong hold on her, something Greyback had promised to sort out despite his general aversion to converting adults unless they could find something else. She had been a useful ally to the Dark Lord, at any rate, pushing forth his agenda even without the Mark.

Rabastan looked out over the bar. Abe, the sullen barkeep, was as usual rubbing down the bar with a dirty rag, while the few patrons sat scattered as far away from each other as they could. He rose to fetch another round for Tony and himself while they waited for the students.

Greyback had howled for days when he heard that Snape was gone. Rabastan too couldn't believe the bastard would just disappear like that. A Potions accident, they had said, but apparently there hadn't been any burial or anything resembling recognition of his death, so not even Tony thought that was the full story. No, it was more likely that he'd up and left. That was what Rabastan would have done in that situation, anyway. Why stay at Hogwarts if you didn't have to?

The Granger girl hadn't made much fuss since returning to Hogwarts, anyway. He didn't understand why Tony and the wolf were so focused on her, but didn't think it was any of his business to care. Greyback had been pleased as a Kneazle after killing the cat but the package hadn't had much of an effect on the witch as far as Rabastan could see.

After a brief trip to the loo Rabastan returned to the table with fresh beer for them. The students had arrived and were talking to Tony already. Two boys, in Hufflepuff coloured robes. They looked to be about fifth-years but he'd never been good with kids so who knew their actual age. Handing the pint of Hog's Head Brew to Tony, Rabastan settled in to listen.

"She's got this pet now, an otter," the dark-haired boy was saying.

"Where the hell did she find an otter?" Rabastan asked.

The other boy shrugged. "Dunno. First her cat got killed and then she got a new pet. She takes it on walks sometimes, it's ridiculous."

The rest of the meeting didn't yield much of interest. Tony hinted strongly at the fact that their little sister's survival was contingent on their cooperation, failing to mention what survival actually meant in that case.

The werewolf was growing his… power base, as well. Rabastan was certain he had converted some kids that had been reported missing, including the boys' sister. At least the girls. He kept disappearing on Moon Nights, thankfully, and Tony had mentioned something about a cave near Newcastle where he'd gone with the wolf during daytime.

It made him worried, sometimes. A slowly growing part of him felt he should do something about it, that Fenrir Greyback was bad news. Well, that much had been bloody obvious right from the start, but it annoyed him that it was starting to feel like his responsibility.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**Halloween 1981**

**Godric** **'s Hollow**

No, no, no, this can't be true, she can't be gone, if she's gone I'm gone gone gone —

Severus gathered her still and lifeless body in his arms. Pain erupted in his chest, anguish and disbelief and something that went far beyond grief and regret.

He'd stay with her, forever. He didn't care anymore. He was as good as dead already.

Suddenly the transformation took over and her body slumped to the floor, almost crushing him in his otter form. He curled up beside her, his head on her chest. She still smelled right, the faint scent of roses and lilies from her shampoo mixed with her own feminine scent.

A noise startled him from his daze. Someone was coming up the stairs, heavy footsteps breaking the silence. Almost before he could process the sound his feet had taken him out of the room and into a closet just by the stairs.

When the coast was clear he snuck out. The night was overcast and damp but his nose told him that there was a stream nearby. The grass was cool against his paws and his long whiskers twitched as he traversed the grounds. Soon he slithered down into the stream, the cold water rushing over his body a welcome distraction. Was that a fish…?

He spent three weeks as an otter before even remembering to change back. When he did return, so did the feelings, the grief and misery and anguish, but at least their edge had been muted slightly during his time in the streams surrounding Godric's Hollow.

They caught him and put him on trial. Albus spoke for him, in his own way, but Severus didn't care. It didn't matter, nothing mattered anymore.

During his short stay in Azkaban he spent most of the time dozing in otter form, dreaming of fish and rivers and a warm hand petting his back.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**March 1999**

**The Deputy Head Girl** **'s Rooms, Hogwarts**

Hermione was sitting at the table in her rooms with a cup of tea, the latest issue of the _Daily Prophet _and her Transfiguration homework in front of her. The otter lay dozing on his pillow by the fire. She hadn't seen that much of him of late since he came and went as he pleased, sometimes smelling of wood smoke and roasted fish.

The Prophet had reported new raids, disappearances and unrest. Godric's Hollow had been targeted, the stores vandalised and a few elderly wizards beaten up outside the pub. It made her angry, as if all their struggles to win the war had meant exactly nothing, the world still not a safer place.

She looked up from the paper. "Will we ever be safe?"

The otter didn't answer, not that she expected him to. She sighed and returned to her Transfiguration essay, but her thoughts didn't stay there. Losing Crookshanks like that had hit her hard. It was clearly a personal attack, but she couldn't figure out the motive or who might be behind it. Rogue Death Eaters, probably, but how would they know to target her cat? Not to mention how they'd managed to find him, at the Burrow?

She worried about other things too. The Professor, for one. What if he couldn't change back? In order to help him she'd started to read up on the Animagus transformation, and had badgered the Headmistress into giving her some pointers on the transformation. She figured it was best to start with understanding how to transform in order to figure out how to unravel an unwanted change. It had been a nice development over the winter, getting to know Professor McGonagall a bit closer over tea in the Headmistress' sitting room, sharing stories and exchanging ideas for Hogwarts and Hermione's future.

That was another thing she worried about, that whole business with NEWTs, graduating, and figuring out what to do with the rest of her life. She'd always relied on her family, small that it was, and deep down she'd always assumed that her family home would always have a room for her, should she need it, even when she turned her back on Muggle life and embraced the magical lifestyle instead. Losing that, when she couldn't restore her parents' memories, hit her harder than expected.

Shaking her head she resolutely pushed all those thoughts aside, and returned to her Transfiguration essay. Once that was done she'd go through the next chapter for Runes, then set up some more calculations for her Arithmancy project and go over her Charms essay one more time, and she had already planned for a practical DADA session with Luna and Ginny the next evening. It was busywork, but at least it worked to keep her busy, she thought and grinned to herself over the bad pun before getting lost in the books.


	8. Worry

**Easter break, 1999**

**Hogwarts, Scotland**

Easter had arrived without Hermione really noticing other than the Castle going quiet with the lack of students. She'd spent a lot of time in the Library, revising for her upcoming exams. Once again she turned Ginny's offer of going to the Burrow with them down. She missed the other Weasleys, as well as Harry, but it just wasn't worth it. She did promise herself to make time for them after finishing her NEWTs, feeling like a bad friend. She'd made sure to write Bill and Fleur as well, and the Twins, but it did feel a bit stilted sometimes.

At least with an otter companion, staying behind wasn't too bad. He was out a lot on his own, but had dragged her along with him a few times to forage for Potions ingredients. The Headmistress had also made sure to invite her over for tea several times which had helped a lot in making her feel less lonely, and Hermione thought the Headmistress too seemed to appreciate their talks. One of the topics they had covered were Kingsley's, or rather the Ministry's, push for celebrations on the anniversary of Voldemort's death. Hermione found the idea rather disgusting and she had pushed for a more solemn acknowledgement of the date and then for the Ministry to arrange something at a later date, if they so wished.

Harry showed up a bit unexpectedly during one of those talks. He apparently had the evening off from Auror training and had been invited for tea by the Headmistress, much to Hermione's surprise. He'd appeared equally surprised to see her there, but to her relief he quickly broke into a grin and caught her in a hug.

They spoke some more about the anniversary plans. Harry would come up to Hogwarts for the eve of the battle and stay the next day, at least, and he too agreed with Hermione that the Ministry's idea of a large-scale celebration was rather disgusting given the Ministry's lack of help during the actual battle. He said he'd talk to Kingsley directly and simply refuse to show up if the Ministry didn't agree, as he too found the idea of a lavish celebration rather distasteful. Hermione smiled at that. Between Harry, Professor McGonagall and herself, the Ministry didn't stand a chance.

"How's everything else, Harry?"

Harry looked serious all of a sudden. "It's worse than I thought," he said and rubbed his forehead absently even though the scar had faded. "The Ministry is quite rotten. Did you hear Umbridge is back? Not in a leading position but they haven't managed to nail her for the crimes her unit did yet. Or I guess they haven't even tried, I mean it's not like it would be hard to prove anything."

Hermione frowned but it was Professor McGonagall who asked the next question. "Who is in charge of the inquiries? I cannot imagine her having many true friends so there must be something else behind this."

Harry nodded. He looked all grown up and sure of himself all of a sudden, Hermione thought. He carried himself differently, now that the war was over, the threat of Voldemort and his physical presence was gone from Harry's life and his forehead, and Auror training seemed to suit him. The effect was only slightly lessened by the way he'd spilled shortbread crumbs all over his robes.

"I'm sure there's something worse going on," he said slowly. "I just keep coming back to the thought that it's all linked, the Ministry and the odd random attacks we've been having all over the country. Some kids are missing, I think some of them had older siblings here at Hogwarts, right Headmistress?" Professor McGonagall nodded, and Harry continued. "Then there was that strange thing with Crookshanks, sorry Hermione but I think it was done by the same group, or at least someone collaborating with the others."

"But who could do such a thing? I mean, attacking people in the streets is just random violence, but Crooks…" She couldn't quite bring herself to finish the sentence.

Harry nodded. "Yes, that was personal for sure. We're missing a couple of Death Eaters and there's been something going on with the records for a couple others so I think it's one of them. Too bad Snape disappeared like that, he might have had some insight. Yes, sorry, _Professor_ Snape. Look Hermione, please be careful, alright? This is not over."

Hermione shuddered, and the Headmistress looked grim. Whatever was happening, it was coming closer. It was also hard to not say anything to Harry about the otter, but she wanted to keep her promise.

Harry had to leave, and promised to keep in touch before disappearing through the green flames of the Floo.

~o~o~x~o~o~

The Headmistress called for Hermione to come to her office in the evening after the students had returned. Apparently, three Muggle-born students had failed to return after the holiday break. A third-year Hufflepuff boy, a first-year Gryffindor girl and a third-year Ravenclaw girl were missing. Professor McGonagall was talking to a couple of Aurors when Hermione entered the office, but waved at her to come in anyway. Apparently the Aurors didn't have much to go on, saying the students had been taken on their way to the Hogwarts Express but the parents had no clear memory of their attackers. A couple of Aurors would be stationed at Hogwarts, just in case, and all Hogsmeade weekends were cancelled until the end of the school year, to the obvious displeasure of most of the school. At least Kingsley had bowed to the inevitable, and Hogwarts would hold a Remembrance Feast on the anniversary of the Battle while the Ministry arranged something a few months later.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**Early April 1999**

**Hogwarts, Scotland**

Time passed without Severus really noticing, and suddenly spring was upon them. For the first time ever in his life he was able to let his guard down a bit and relax. Life as an otter was comfortable. The Deputy Head Girl kept him company and at night he ended up beside her in bed more often than not. It was comforting, having a companion who didn't push, who didn't really need anything from him other than to share a living space and bed. He'd found a couple of good spots in the Forest where he could watch the streams and let the pale sun warm his dense fur, but he didn't even bother with hunting unless the Centaurs found him and asked him to fetch something from the streams for them.

He retreated more and more inside himself, with no attempts at breaking out of the form. He just didn't care anymore, and there was nothing for him to return to in that other shape. During the first couple of months he had tried a few times to change back but never succeeded. As time wore on, his past life receded into the background. It felt like a relief. The otter took over, caring more about the here-and-now than about abstract concepts such as guilt, survival, Death Eaters and betrayal.

With a yawn he rose from his spot by the fire in Miss Granger's rooms. Maybe the Centaurs had some fresh fish to share, now that spring had come. They'd promised to take him along deeper into the Forest, allowing him to hitch a ride with them to other good hunting spots that were too distant for otter legs. Yes, that would do nicely. Perhaps he could check the vervain that was growing not too far into the forest to see if it was ready for harvesting.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**April 1999**

**The Deputy Head Girl** **'s Rooms, Hogwarts**

With only just over two months to go until exams Hermione was stressed out as usual, trying to cram all the studying into too few hours of the day. At least that was what it felt like. She knew, deep down, that she was more than ready to take the NEWTs, but it didn't help matters much. She was also starting to miss the companionship she used to have in Gryffindor Tower where Harry, Ron and the others did contribute to keeping her mostly sane during the exam period. They had made sure she ate, slept at least some hours per night, and occasionally forced her into the fresh air outside to watch them play Quidditch even if she often did that with a book or two at hand.

This year, instead, she had a grumpy otter for company who used to be her Potions professor. He still didn't seem interested in shifting back, and Hermione thought he was slipping further into otter-dom with each passing month.

He'd found a comfortable spot in the window sill in front of her study desk, where he would often doze while she studied. Sometimes she asked him questions and occasionally he even answered, at least if the answer could be yes or no.

She looked at him after finishing her Herbology essay. "I do hope you change back soon but if you'd rather stay an otter you'd be welcome to stay with me if you wanted to."

He looked up at her, startled, and didn't answer either way. Not that she'd expected him to. His baffled gaze made her flustered. "Of course you wouldn't want to hang out with me, I get it. It's just… I sleep better when you're around and I kind of like having you here even if you're an otter. But I guess you don't, of course you don't want to stay with me. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything." She slammed the book shut and escaped to the bedroom where she threw herself on the bed, embarrassed and upset. She shouldn't have propositioned him like that but the loneliness was more than she could bear sometimes. Ever since breaking up with Ron she didn't really have anyone close to her and after graduating she'd be completely on her own. Harry would be busy with Ginny, Luna would be off being Luna and she didn't count Neville or the rest of the Weasleys as close friends.

After a while the door slowly opened and she heard the light patter of paws on the flagstones. The bed dipped slightly as he jumped up near the foot end.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be taking it out on you," she whispered. She turned to face him, resting her head in her palm. Slowly she reached out to rake her hand through his dense fur.

He chirped at her and licked her elbow with a raspy tongue. She smiled and pulled him closer.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**April 1999**

**The Shack, Inverness**

Plans were being made and unmade at a speed that made Rabastan dizzy. Apparently they were moving out of Tony's great-gran's place, but he didn't know exactly where they were headed or what they were supposed to do. Greyback had smiled at him, if one could call it that, all teeth and leering, and said everything was going just as intended. Rabastan had nodded and made himself scarce, and tried to avoid the wolf's company after that.

At the moment, Rabastan and Tony were alone in the cabin, having just returned from a trip to the Ministry where they'd talked to a couple people about plans in the coming weeks, disguised in their drab Muggle clothes and with new hairstyles. They'd assumed the Ministry would do something lavish to celebrate the date of the Dark Lord's fall, but to their surprise they had learned that the anniversary would be relatively quiet and that a larger event was planned for later in the summer. Tony had frowned but then said they could work with that, and then sent Rabastan off with a message to the Edgecombe witch.

Rabastan reached for another beer. The cabin had oddly enough started to feel like home over the past few months.

"You better keep your head down and make yourself useful," Tony muttered. "He's already wondering why I keep you around. Thinks you're a burden."

"Fuck." It was what he had expected, or feared.

"Step up or you'll find yourself redundant. At the sharp end of his teeth."

"Come on, you can't say you're happy about everything going to the wolves?"

Tony shrugged. "I'll put a silver collar on him if he steps out of line, and he knows it. We've got a deal, I'm stronger than him and he respects that for now. He doesn't want the formal power so I'll take the Ministry, he gets a strong base to recruit from and we'll turn this bloody country around. You in or out?"

Rabastan took a deep breath. "As long as the wolf stays away I'm with you, Tony." Not that he thought the wolf would be subdued by a regular wizard, even one as magically strong as Antonin Dolohov, but he was for sure the better option to align with.

Tony nodded and fetched a beer for himself. "Go pack your shit, we leave tomorrow."

~o~o~x~o~o~

**The 1980s**

**Hogwarts, Scotland**

Severus almost forgot about his abilities once he'd started working at Hogwarts. With the ever-present nosy Headmaster and a Deputy who was always too keen to put her whiskers in his business it would have been too difficult to hide his abilities for long. He didn't even bother to ask how they'd handled his absence after Lily's death and his time in Azkaban, and the students had probably been more than happy to find him gone. When he returned it was with Occlumency shields pulled tight around him, shielding his mind just as his black robes shielded his body. No one would get close to him again, not after Lily, not after Regulus.

Most of his Death Eater acquaintances were in Azkaban, luckily. He did stay in touch with the Malfoys out of self-preservation. Teaching took up most of his year, the workload regularly hitting sixty hours a week between teaching, correcting abysmal essays and brewing Infirmary potions for Poppy, but he did manage to carve out some time for research as well. Not having a social life aside from Albus' mandated so-called _fun times_ and the occasional Malfoy summons helped in that regard.

The summers were his own, however, and sometimes when he was out trekking the countryside chasing Potions ingredients he found himself transforming, either for the sake of gathering things from the sea and rivers or even, rarely, just for fun or when the craving for fresh fish struck.

His meagre salary was spent on books and Potions ingredients for his research. He didn't change his ways even as a few patents went through and Galleons started to trickle into his vault in a steady stream. Lucius asked him a few times why he didn't buy a better house, why he stayed at Hogwarts, why he didn't find a witch to settle down with, but he merely shrugged.

He had nothing to offer a witch, after all. His heart was buried with Lily. Physical urges were one thing, and could be managed with the occasional visit to the secluded corners of Knockturn Alley or by actually showing up to the Malfoys' gatherings and finding a suitable target. It was worse with the small voice inside that wished for someone to actually want _him_, for companionship and a shared hearth and reading quietly together on the sofa.

He usually ended up knocking back half a bottle of Firewhisky when that voice got too insistent. It wasn't for him, that sort of life. Luckily, or perhaps not exactly, during the years Potter Junior attended Hogwarts the demands on his time increased until he barely slept, functioning on potions and coffee and adrenaline, unable to think of anything but how to survive the next day or even the next few hours.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**End of April 1999**

**The Forbidden Forest, Scotland**

The Forest had changed with spring and early summer, when the greenery and flowers returned and the birds and animals were well under way on their quests to build the next generation. April was soon about to give way unto May, and Hermione was taking advantage of her schedule where she didn't have classes Thursday afternoon. She was out looking for fresh aconite to brew Wideye potion for Poppy, and thought she'd seen the plant on an earlier trip to the Forest with the Professor. He wasn't tagging along this time, though, and she hadn't seen him for a few days.

She walked further in. There weren't any sign of the plants she needed although she spotted some other plants that could be useful for brewing, including knotgrass and starthistle. The fresh air relaxed her, gradually letting her forget the stress of exams and parents and potential futures.

The birds had gone quiet, for some reason. The stillness felt strange. She tried to listen, to figure out what was wrong, and slowly pulled her wand out from its holder while holding her breath to try to hear better.

Something was wrong. A twig snapped somewhere, it sounded as if someone was panting over in the shadows, there was movement half hidden behind the trees. She twirled on the spot, wand raised, but was only met with silence.

"Who's there?"

Her demand was met with more silence but then she thought she'd heard something. A laugh? Or a snort? Whatever it was, it wasn't right. Fear coursed through her again, along with memories of Snatchers, Nagini, the mad dash out of the Ministry after stealing the locket.

She started running back to Hogwarts but hadn't made it more than two steps before a stunner felled her from behind.

~o~o~x~o~o~

A pounding headache woke her up. She lay on the ground in a rather uncomfortable position, and something was undoubtedly wrong as she couldn't move. Her mouth was dry and it felt as if she'd hit something face first as her jaw was throbbing.

Slowly she noticed someone talking. "… you had it in you." Male, and oddly familiar. Why did it sound like Dolohov?

When she opened her eyes to look it was to stare into the face of one Fenrir Greyback who was leering at her from too close a distance.


	9. Kitten

**End of April 1999**

**The Forbidden Forest, Scotland**

Rabastan couldn't believe his luck when the witch they were after came strolling through the forest as if she didn't have a care in the world. She was carrying a wicker hamper so he guessed she was out foraging for something, not for a minute thinking she would be the one to be plucked that afternoon.

He stepped out behind her and whispered a quick _Petrificus Totalus._ She fell with a thud. After plucking her wand from her hand it was easy enough to levitate her and bring her back to the camp. They were preparing some locations close to Hogwarts for Greyback to bring his pack in but would have to leave before nightfall as it was a Moon Night.

Tony nodded in approval as he approached. He left the girl lying on the ground, still Petrified.

"Nice catch. Didn't think you'd have it in you."

Shortly thereafter the werewolf came back from wherever he'd gone. His head snapped up as soon as he entered the clearing, and when he saw the witch a truly unpleasant smile spread over his face.

"Oh, look, a pretty little kitten has come to play," Greyback purred, making Rabastan's hair stand on end. "A present from you, Rab? Good boy."

Rabastan nodded, still not liking the nickname. Tony released the _Petrificus_ in order to bind her more securely.

"Let me go!" she shrieked and tried to knee Tony in the nuts. The burly wizard snarled and backhanded her in response. He split her lip, red droplets dripping down her chin.

"Oooh, feisty," Greyback purred. "I like that in a bitch. Hmm, maybe I should keep you for myself. Make you _my _bitch, have you carry my pups. What do you say?"

The witch had stopped shrieking, looking almost dazed when she eyed the werewolf. Tony had managed to truss her up to a nearby elm tree with some rope and a couple of _Incarcerous_ spells. He'd bound her wrists behind the tree, making her tits stand out rather nicely.

"You're no longer a virgin, I can tell," the wolf continued. "You owe me for that, bitch. I was so close to having you in Malfoy Manor, remember? I was sure you were wet and willing for me back then. Not that it matters, I usually use blood for lube."

"I'll never be yours!" the witch yelled, glaring at her captors. She had courage, Rabastan had to give her that.

Greyback laughed. "Oh but you will, bitch. No one's coming for you here, you know." He tore her top off with his teeth, leaving it hanging off her arms and shoulders, her white bra on display. His long tongue licked a line up her sternum, almost to her collar bones, and then over her chin, tasting the blood. "But you saved your arse for me, didn't you? You're still a virgin there? Good little bitch."

The girl shied back again, disgust and horror clear on her face. Rabastan shook his head, almost feeling sorry for her. He still didn't know why the wolf and Tony were so fixated on her. It didn't matter though as no one got away once Greyback had caught them, but sometimes the wolf liked to play with his prey first, almost like a cat.

An owl hooted and swept into the clearing. Rabastan reached for it and released the message, reading it quickly before he handed it to the wolf. They wanted him to come to the Ministry to help convince a clerk to join them rather than turn them in, apparently.

Greyback read the note with a snarl. "I'll be back soon for you, little bitch." Greyback leaned closer to her, but stopped just before his nose touched her cheek. "Tony, keep an eye on my present, will you? I need to go talk to some people who can't get their priorities straight."

They left the witch bound to the tree, now with a Silencing spell, and Rabastan opened another can of Muggle beer. They had a few hours before they really needed to leave to somewhere safe due to it being a Moon Night, and with the witch caught it wouldn't be long before all hell broke loose. Better take the chance to relax when he had it, he thought, settling in by the fire.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**End of April 1999**

**The Forbidden Forest, Scotland**

Something was wrong. A discordant note humming in the air, a smell that didn't belong, a shiver down his spine. Severus didn't know what, exactly, only that it was true. He'd spent the day at the shores of the Black Lake and had only just returned to Miss Granger's rooms. She wasn't there, however, even though he knew she didn't have classes in the afternoon on Thursdays. Placing his nose to the Castle's wall he sensed the hum of magic through stone and expanded his consciousness. The room, the walls, the Castle with its inhabitants. No, all was calm there, but the Castle itself urged him further, deeper, onwards. It tried to help him focus his efforts in sensing the nature of the wrongness. Without warning the wall which he pushed against gave way again, the Castle hurtling him through the hidden tunnels in ways that certainly defied the laws of physics, making him tumble down and ahead until he was finally spit out in front of the greenhouses.

The Forest shivered, as if unsettled, as he picked up the trail of wrongness and ran as fast as he could deeper into the heart of it. Roots moved away from his path but short otter legs weren't made for serious running, and he was soon panting and cursing himself for not having magic available.

Rhythmic hoofbeats off to his left grew stronger. A unicorn or a Centaur? Probably a Centaur, he guessed, as unicorns were lighter on their feet. Strong arms scooped him up before he could see who it was. He looked up into a stern face framed by blond hair and chirped a greeting.

"I see you, Severus Master of Potions," Firenze said, looking down on him. "We are running out of time, I will take you to your mate."

The palomino stallion deposited Severus on his broad back and Severus held on tight to the harness Firenze wore around his human waist for holding tools and bags. Centaurs knew more than they let on, and Firenze was among the most perceptive of them all. The Centaur had gone back to the Forest during Severus' time as Headmaster instead of staying on as Divination professor, but not before pulling him aside to let him know that Firenze knew his true allegiance.

"There is werewolf in the air," Firenze said. "A mad one, bent on creating chaos and destruction wherever he goes."

Werewolf? That was concerning. Greyback was here? He clung tighter to the harness, trying to mold himself to the rhythm of the hoofbeats and the sway of the centaur's back. Branches and tree trunks flew by as they hurtled through the Forest.

"Friend, remember who you truly are," Firenze said as they approached. "Don't let them see you."

They stopped just before a clearing. A shimmery haze lay before them, clearly some kind of ward, hiding and protecting whoever hid in the clearing.

Firenze nodded slowly. "As I thought. The stars are calling me home. It has been good to know you, Severus Master of Potions. Avenge yourself."

The stallion slid a long knife from its holster. He stilled and took a deep breath before he shook himself and snorted. "Hold on tight, friend."

Severus clung to the harness as they burst into a mad gallop and crashed the wards, Centaur style. He managed to think that they probably weren't set against Centaurs or otter Animagi before taking advantage of the chaos and slipping off Firenze's back, jumping behind a bush. Her scent was strong although it was overpowered by cheap Muggle beer and the stench of werewolf.

Firenze didn't hesitate, but the two wizards were battle-hardened and fast. The Centaur lunged at Dolohov who sat closest, and knocked him down before he could even react. As Dolohov scrambled to his feet, one of the Lestrange brothers turned and whipped out his wand. Red slashes appeared all over the Centaur's golden hide.

For the first time since the Potions accident, Severus cursed his form and his inability to do something useful. Still, the change didn't come. He dashed behind the elm where Miss Granger was bound, but not before he saw Firenze sinking his dagger into Dolohov's throat. The burly wizard wheezed and tried to hex the Centaur who easily dodged the spell, before falling backwards, narrowly missing the fire.

"Shit shit shit," Severus heard Lestrange mutter before the unmistakable flash of green hit the Centaur straight in the chest. Firenze went still and crumpled to the ground.

Lestrange — Rabastan, Severus saw — walked cautiously around the fire to the two fallen combatants, and Severus took the chance to assess Miss Granger's situation better. She was sobbing, so she was obviously awake. She was bound by physical ropes but looked reasonably unharmed. Her top was torn but he couldn't see any wounds apart from the blood dripping from her lip. She had appeared to be under a Silencing charm when he first arrived but perhaps Dolohov's death had released it.

He chirped softly and moved around the tree so she could see him, hoping against hope she would have the sense to keep quiet. As soon as she noticed him she started to draw breath, undoubtedly to say something, but he shook his head vigorously and dashed behind the tree again.

He started attacking the ropes but it was difficult. Some of them were low enough for him to reach, but his teeth were made for fish and other such prey, not for gnawing at ropes. He worked as fast as he could, biting and tearing at the ropes that held her ankles.

Lestrange rose and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Severus pulled at the ropes again and finally managed to free one of her legs. The wizard was starting to turn towards them, time was running out.

_Remember who you truly are._ Firenze's words came back to him and he took a step back, letting calmness wash over him. He was Severus Snape. Master of Potions, Professor, spy, occasional otter. He closed his eyes and focused inwards. Magic surged through him as he recalled the feeling of drawing breath into his lungs, the way his clothes and dragon-hide boots had felt like a shield against the world, what his magic tasted like when channelled through his wand. His wand… His hand sought it out, and it was precisely where it was supposed to be. His coat was a bit tattered at the front and near the sleeves, probably from the explosion back in October, but otherwise everything seemed to be in order. With a quick slash of his wand he severed the ropes and managed to catch Miss Granger before she crumpled to the ground.

"You're back," she whispered and smiled at him.

"Hey!" Lestrange shouted.

"Behind me," Severus told her quickly and took a large step forward, covering her.

"Snape?! What the hell!"

He took advantage of Lestrange's confusion and shot off a non-verbal Stunner, but the other wizard was faster than he appeared and easily side-stepped it. Soon they were trading spells back and forth, neither of them gaining the upper hand. Severus felt rusty after half a year without practising magic, otherwise he was certain Lestrange wouldn't have been a match for him. Out of sheer annoyance he managed to push the other wizard a little further from Miss Granger who was still clinging to the tree she'd been bound to, but this time at least voluntarily rather than bound.

"Watch out!" Lestrange cried and Severus jerked back on autopilot.

Greyback snarled at both of them, standing next to the tree. He had her pinned to his chest, his hand palming a breast and the other locking her arms behind her. He looked wild, way more feral than the last time Severus had seen him, at Malfoy Manor during one of the Dark Lord's gatherings.

"Snape," the wolf growled, low in his chest. "I knew you weren't dead. How kind of you to let us sort that out for you."

Severus exhaled, never taking his eyes off the wolf. He lowered his wand. There was no way to attack him now, not when he had Miss Granger. Lestrange was moving to the wolf's side, curiously not taking advantage of the situation to stun Severus.

"Tony is dead, a bloody Centaur got him," Lestrange said.

Greyback didn't take his eyes off Severus either, not even as he licked a wet trail beneath Miss Granger's ear, along her throat. She whimpered. "If he was stupid enough to be taken out by a horse, then it's no big loss. But you, Snape? I'll fuck this little thing in front of you, make you see a real wolf in action. I promise to keep you alive for a long time before I rip you to shreds, traitor. It's a Moon Night tonight, you just have to wait. "

It all seemed to happen at the same time after that. Miss Granger threw her head back and managed to hit the werewolf's nose with a sickening crunch. The wolf howled and yanked her arms up behind her back, causing her too to howl in pain when one of her shoulders dislocated. Somehow she managed to disappear from the wolf's grasp as Severus lunged forward to get a better angle of attack and, to his surprise, Lestrange raised his wand… not at Severus but at the wolf. Lestrange cast a loud Stunner which merely stalled the wolf for a few seconds before he lunged at the wizard, snarling. Severus managed to shoot off a _Sectumsempra _which hit the werewolf straight across the chest, but the blood didn't seem to deter him much. At least Miss Granger was out of the way, although he didn't see where she'd gone. Lestrange cast another Stunner which Greyback dodged, lunging for the man's throat as if to rip it out with his bare hands. Severus was just getting ready to Stun both of them again when Lestrange managed to gasp out the Killing Curse again, his wand aimed point blank at the werewolf's head. Greyback looked surprised when he slumped to the ground, and Severus felt vicious relief at seeing the werewolf staring unseeingly at the sky.

"Fuck," Lestrange said hoarsely. He didn't continue fighting, his wand hanging limply from his fingers.

Severus made short work of him, Summoning the wizard's wand and tying him up with a strong _Incarcerous_.

After checking that no other new threats had appeared, he suddenly remembered Miss Granger. Why couldn't he see her? When he got closer he heard a small squeak down by the ground, and lit his wand to see better.

A small brown otter peered up at him, holding its right front paw up at an awkward angle.

"Oh, Miss Granger," he sighed and fell to his knees next to her.

Her shoulder was dislocated, but he didn't know enough about how to treat otter physiology to make an attempt at healing it. After searching his pockets he found a vial of Pain Potion, still intact after half a year in otter form. He popped off the cork, sniffed the contents and Transfigured a leaf into a spoon in order to give her an otter-appropriate dose. She lapped it down gratefully and squeaked at him.

"I'm glad you're safe," he said. "I'll take care of you. Poppy will set your shoulder to rights."

The otter squeaked again and tried clumsily to move closer to him. He scooped her up, bracing her on his lower arm with her head resting in his palm and the bad leg supported by his body, and felt her sigh in relief.

Not one to waste time, he pointed his wand to Lestrange's head and dove in with a muttered _Legilimens_. Although Bellatrix had been a good Occlumens with strong shields, apparently she hadn't bothered to teach her alleged husband and his brother. It was easy enough to find what he needed, shuffling through the memories of the past year. It was rather satisfying to see what the Pure-blood aristocrat had been reduced to, roughing it in a nearly completely Muggle cabin in north Scotland with those two for company, basically living on baked beans and toast for a year and having to steal Muggle clothes and beer money. At least he got some of the confirmations he needed, of their allies and plans.

Summoning a Patronus was more difficult. He tried the usual memories, of Lily smiling at him, receiving their Hogwarts letters, studying together, but the doe he was used to seeing failed to materialise. A white mist sputtered from his wand, and he could make out vague body parts, but it wasn't enough. Taking a deep breath he tried to focus on the feeling of happiness itself instead and was surprised with himself when the memories came. Reading the Deputy Head Girl's essays upside down, perched on her desk. Supervising her brewing, her reading a book out loud on the couch while he was curled up next to her. Their Valentine's date, as it were, and Christmas with the blanket she gave him. And all those shared nights, curled up next to her, letting the sound of her breathing lull him to sleep.

The otter that sprang forward from his wand almost blinded him with its bright intensity. Of course it would be an otter, now. It wove around his legs and came up to sniff the otter in his arms while he talked to it, and then bounded off with altogether too much enthusiasm while he shook his head at its retreating form.

Kingsley's lynx Patronus returned quickly, as did Minerva's cat, and not long after he found himself standing in the clearing surrounded by Aurors dealing with the trussed-up Death Eater, wrapped in a hug by Minerva.

"Careful," he said, holding the Headmistress away from the wounded otter in his arms.

"Is that…?"

He nodded. "Miss Granger, yes. Her shoulder is hurt, Poppy needs to look at it."

The Headmistress concentrated and waved her wand in the general direction of Hogwarts. "Go, Severus. I've lowered the Anti-Apparition wards. I'll deal with these, are there more in the Forest?"

Severus nodded at Kingsley who had come closer, and addressed both of them. "Not sure, some students seem to have been compromised. I got the memories from Rabastan, you should come along to see them in the Pensieve. And someone needs to contact Magorian over Firenze. He sacrificed himself to get me inside the wards."

Minerva nodded and promised she'd sort it out.

"Dawlish, Savage, send for reinforcements and do a sweep of the Forest," Kingsley said to his Auror team. "I'll meet you at Hogwarts soon to see those memories, Severus."

Severus focused and let the pull of Apparition whisk him and the otter away.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**End of April 1999**

**Hogwarts, Scotland **

They Apparated to the Infirmary but the little otter shook her head and squeaked at him as they approached the door. He looked down at her, finding the change in perspective a bit strange since he'd been the one looking up at her human eyes rather than the other way around. "I need to let Poppy look at your shoulder, Miss Granger."

She squeaked again and shook her head.

"I won't leave you," he said quietly. "I'll be with you the whole time and take you back with me after."

She looked up at him and tilted her head, as if in question, before nodding once.

Poppy was surprised to see him and threatened to pull him into another hug, but he waved her off. After a quick assessment the Healer quickly set the otter to rights again, despite her stream of complaints about not being a veterinary Healer. He scooped her up after another dose of potions, despite Poppy's protests, but she did manage to wrangle a promise out of him to come down for tea and a proper talk later. She'd always treated him like either an equal or a wayward son, apart from last year when her scorn had been another burden to bear in his role as Headmaster.

Their next stop was the Headmistress' Tower. He had avoided the place ever since returning to teach, but to his surprise he didn't feel crushed with guilt and despair when entering the room, the otter still on his arm.

Kingsley and Minerva arrived just as he had finished depositing Rabastan's memories in the bowl. He gave a brief accounting of the fight, and left them to go through the memories without his input. It wasn't his fight; they would have to muddle through as best they could, this time. His time as an otter had shown that life did go on without him, that not everything had to be his responsibility, and at the moment he had more important things to consider.

He took her to his chambers. It felt odd to be back in the dungeons after so long in the Deputy Head Girl's quarters, but he welcomed the familiarity of it. She didn't seem to want to jump down from his hold, no more than he wanted to let her go. The room felt dark and sombre, especially in contrast with her quarters, but a few flicks of his wand sorted out the lights. He'd have to redecorate later, he thought, if he ever got around to it.

"Topsy!" he barked, and a House-Elf popped into the room, eyeing him a bit warily.

"What can Topsy do for Master of Potions?"

"Pack up the Deputy Head Girl's belongings and bring them here."

He sank down on his old green velvet couch, for the first time noticing how lumpy and uncomfortable it actually was. The otter chirped at him and licked his hand with a raspy tongue, and he petted her dense fur automatically, remembering the sensation of a warm hand stroking his back when the roles had been reversed.

They awoke the next morning still on the couch, covered by the blanket she had given him for Christmas.


	10. Another Otter

**End of April ** **— End of May, 1999**

**Hogwarts, Scotland**

Minerva came knocking on his door shortly after he'd taken a proper shower and shaved for the first time in half a year. It felt odd to be clean in a human way again. The potions accident hadn't left any scars, at least, and he felt fully restored to what he used to be. What he should be, even, as somehow he felt subtly improved from the state he'd been in back in October. Something had healed within him during his time as an otter, something he hadn't known to be broken.

The Headmistress ordered breakfast from the kitchens while he dusted off his kitchen table, often doubling as writing desk, with a quick spell. Another spell polished the rough oak surface, making it look almost as good as new. He did the same to the wooden chairs while he was at it and fixed the wobbly leg on one of the chairs that had irked him for well over ten years.

Minerva directed the house-elves to set the table, with a small plate of herring for Miss Granger who was given space on top of the table nearest to the wall. Severus suddenly found himself ravenous as the breakfast smells reached him, and dug in while Minerva sipped her tea and filled him in on the details of the Auror investigation.

Apparently Kingsley's team had found the fifteen or so children Greyback had converted, in an old barn not far from Hogsmeade. After barricading them in for the night the Aurors had inspected all of them the next morning. Most of them were filthy and hungry, had severe gaps in their memories where Greyback had Obliviated them repeatedly, and the whole lot of them were sent to St Mungo's for check-ups. The three missing students were all present, and the Hufflepuff boy hadn't even been converted. He'd been left to starve in a cell in the barn, shielded from the other werewolves who couldn't convert him, and the most popular theory was that his long curly hair made him look like a girl from behind, so taking him had probably been a mistake.

Kingsley had also moved in on the Ministry and apprehended the persons identified in the memories as collaborating with the rabid wolf, including one Dolores Umbridge, Minerva was pleased to say. It would be difficult to catch all of them with both Dolohov and the wolf dead since Lestrange didn't appear to be very involved in the plans, but according to Minerva Kingsley thought he could clean out a fair bit of the rot in the Ministry and Wizengamot. Lestrange himself had been fitted with anti-magical cuffs and dumped in a secure holding cell in the Auror headquarters, under supervision of selected Aurors until they could have him trialled. Severus offered to brew a few batches of Wolfsbane if he could be reimbursed for ingredients but a more long-term solution would be needed later as there was no way he'd be able to keep up with that many werewolves.

"I'm so glad you're back, Severus," Minerva was saying as they finished their breakfast. "It was hard to deal with all the speculation from everyone. You should have seen the first staff meeting after your disappearance, although of course I didn't know anything then either. Total chaos. It became harder when I knew where you were and couldn't tell the others."

"Welcome to my world," he muttered half-heartedly and buttered another scone.

Minerva nodded. "I know and I'm sorry, Severus. I treated you horribly back then. No not just last year… I should have had more faith in you, all those years."

He shook his head. "Leave it, Minerva. We were all given roles to play by Albus and he made sure we followed the script. You owe me nothing, but thank you for not pushing during these months. I feel… I wasn't ready."

Minerva nodded and dropped the subject, thankfully. She filled him in on all the gossip he'd evaded during his otter months before rising to leave. He rose as well to escort her to the Floo.

She turned to face him and the otter who eyed them both from her spot on his table. "Stay here today, if you wish. You don't have to reintroduce yourself just yet unless you want to. I want you to come to the Remembrance Feast on Sunday, however."

He frowned. It sounded like a horribly bad idea and as the perfect method to completely ruin the feast. "Minerva, I — "

The Headmistress drew herself up to her full height and glared up at him. "No, Severus, that's unfortunately not negotiable. With Miss Granger… indisposed, it becomes even more important. I think you've underestimated your reputation, anyway. See you on Sunday."

They spent the rest of the Friday in his quarters. The otter dozed on a pillow while he caught up with Potions journals and then he brought her down to his lab, putting her experimental potion in stasis and starting a few batches for Poppy. He then took both otter and potion vials over to the Infirmary where Poppy checked the otter over and then dragged them into her office for a proper cuppa.

He felt rather pleased with himself after returning to his quarters, carrying the otter. Poppy had cried again and insisted on hugging him but they'd managed to clear the air over his year as Headmaster and she'd half jokingly forgiven him for turning into an otter without letting him know.

The next day he got the urge to clean out his quarters, Banishing dust and debris, organising his books and heaps of paper, and even going so far as to ask a house-elf to clean. The poor thing looked simultaneously like he had been given the best present ever and as if he was presented with a live viper, but he nodded and got to work while Severus took the otter on his shoulders and went outside via a less-used exit in the dungeons.

He didn't have to walk far into the Forest for the Centaurs to catch up with him even if nothing had been said outright. Somehow he just knew anyway what would happen. Magorian and Bane materialised from the shadows, nodding at him and the otter solemnly before turning around, escorting him along their forest paths still without a word.

They ended up in the same clearing where he'd rescued Miss Granger. He felt the otter tense and bury her head in his hair when they approached. The bodies of the werewolf and Dolohov were gone, but a large pyre had been raised in the middle of the clearing and the body of Firenze rested on top of it. Bunches of herbs and flowers lay scattered over his body and the pyre, and a couple of the mares were still lifting smaller branches, bundles of herbs and other things on top of the scaffolding.

It seemed as if the whole herd was there. Centaurs of all sizes and colours eyed him when he stepped forward, coming face to face, well face to chest, with Magorian who had turned to greet them properly.

"I see you, Severus Master of Potions, and Hermione Otter-friend. Be welcome."

"Thank you, Magorian of the Forest. I felt the call."

Magorian nodded, and Severus went to stand and wait off to the side, out of the way of the Centaurs.

Seemingly at random one Centaur would approach the pyre and add something to it. Some of the items appeared to be personal, such as a bow, a blanket and a wooden bowl, while others brought food or herbs. A few of them said something, a sentence or two, or maybe even just a word, about Firenze. How he'd taught a young colt how to fish. One of the mares said Firenze was always the best at detangling her tail when she'd snagged it on thorny bushes. Bane merely wished him well now on his next adventure, and another mare talked about them running like fools over the meadows in their youth, making a flock of geese flee in front of them and Firenze catching one of them in his arms, which promptly got turned into dinner. Another mare merely placed the heart of a deer on the pyre, over Firenze's own heart, tears tracking down her face. Severus thought she must have been Firenze's mate, half confirmed by the way the older mares flocked around her afterwards.

The otter nudged him and somehow managed to stick her nose into his pocket. When he shifted her out from there she had something in her mouth. A pearl, slightly uneven and pink, looking oddly similar to one of the three he'd given her for Christmas.

"Is this…?" he asked her quietly. "You want to give him this? Are you sure?"

She nodded and chirped something he could almost understand, but the meaning was clear anyway, and it felt right. Nodding he took the pearl from her and stepped up to the pyre, placing the pearl in front of the Centaur's chest.

He took a deep breath and turned slightly so the herd could hear him better. "Firenze, you have always been a good friend. I like your humour and sharp wit, and the way you always manage to pinpoint the essence of the issue, seeing through the layers of confusion laid by others. Thank you for your support last year. There is nothing I can say that do your final actions justice, so I won't. Just know that you succeeded. The werewolf is no more a threat to anyone, here in the Forest or outside of it. I will not forget."

Magorian nodded at him when he turned to go back to his spot. They stayed a little longer, listening to the Centaurs talk about their friend, but left before nightfall when they would light the pyre.

~o~o~x~o~o~

Sunday arrived much too fast, and he still hadn't managed to shake off Minerva's insistent summons. As such, he found himself dressed in his best robes, fidgeting with his collar in the corridor to the Professors' entrance to the Great Hall.

He took a deep breath. The otter clung to his shoulders, curling around him like a warm scarf.

When he entered the Great Hall, the room fell silent. He walked up the dais slowly, taking the seat Minerva indicated, on her right side.

Suddenly the room erupted with applause. Had Potter entered? He looked around but couldn't see the messy-haired wizard anywhere, and everyone was looking at him instead, applauding. Some of the little miscreants were grinning openly, at him, as if they were actually happy to see him. To his relief, Minerva signalled to Filius who directed the Frog Choir to start singing from the back of the room, taking some of the attention off him. His colleagues, too, appeared much too cheerful over seeing him, and he suspected Minerva had either bribed them with something or put some kind of potion in their drinks.

Afterwards, he felt disoriented and overwhelmed by the positive attention he'd received. Minerva had talked, the usual platitudes about healing and time and learning from what had happened. It was a pretty good speech, nonetheless, and she even highlighted his own role as Headmaster and how different things could have been had he not been there. Potter had also come up to speak, and even Severus had had to admit that the boy seemed to have grown up. The speech was humble, to the point, and blessedly short, and he had avoided taking credit for the whole mess, instead pointing to Miss Granger and even to Severus as crucial to winning the war in the end. They had excused Miss Granger's absence by saying she'd been hurt in the Forest when helping to catch Greyback, which was technically correct after all, but Potter knew about the whereabouts of his friend and had nodded at both Severus and the otter in passing.

Miss Granger had stayed quiet during the Feast, never leaving his shoulders. He wondered how much awareness the witch currently had, remembering the way the otter had taken over when the situation had been reversed. Severus excused himself early, fending off all questions about his return, and escaped down to the blessedly quiet dungeon quarters.

Slughorn left the Castle before the day was out, claiming he was moving to the Azores and not to contact him again, no matter if Severus turned into a manticore, unicorn, bat or Nundu.

~o~o~x~o~o~

They settled into nearly the same sort of routine as before, but this time in reverse. He taught classes, corrected essays, brewed or read, and she followed along, offering a chirpy comment occasionally or just watching. It was comforting, having her there. As soon as her shoulder healed she promptly snuck up in bed with him too, sleeping curled up next to him, much as he had done in the Deputy Head Girl's quarters. Most students and staff simply assumed the otter on his shoulders was the same otter she'd had for company earlier, never for a moment considering the differences in colouring and size, instead mainly focusing on the question of why _he_ of all people ended up with the otter for company instead of, say, one of them.

~o~o~x~o~o~

Miss Lovegood stayed behind after Potions class a few weeks later.

"Yes, Miss Lovegood?" Severus said, not looking up from the essay he was reducing to a mess of red.

She was quiet until he finally looked at her, meeting her guileless large eyes. "I'm glad you're back with us now, sir. Your aura is much better, you weren't all _here_ when you came back last autumn. Too many Wrackspurts, but they're almost all gone now."

He raised an eyebrow, not sure what to say to the odd, oddly perceptive Ravenclaw. "Thank you, Miss Lovegood."

Miss Lovegood nodded. "Don't worry about Hermione. As long as you love her she will come back to us. Just let her know and she'll be fine. Thanks again, Professor." She gave him a vague smile, waved and skipped out of the room.

That unsettled him. Love? He hadn't laid a claim to _that_ word since his teenage years, and he strongly suspected that what he had then thought was love was simply the misplaced loyalty over someone actually tolerating his company, mixed with a heady serving of guilt, and carefully cultivated by the Headmaster to keep him in line. Surely he tolerated the former Head Girl, now otter, but to call it _love_…? He shook his head as if to dispel the thoughts, and returned to grading essays.

Over the next few days his thoughts kept returning to Miss Lovegood's words. Yes, he did feel a whole lot better, as if someone had turned on the colour again in the world. Could he do the same for her? She, too, hadn't been herself over the past year, although he thought she'd improved a little with time.

It took him another few days to work out a potential approach. It would take some research and a lot of experimentation, but perhaps there was something he could do for his otter.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**Summer 1999**

**Professor Snape** **'s Quarters, Hogwarts**

Gradually, slowly, the world started filtering back in. At first only in glimpses, when her consciousness rose to realise that the person reading to her — and _petting her back_ — was none other than Professor Snape, and that she was curled up in his lap in what must be his quarters while he read the latest issue of _Potions Monthly_ out loud. Before she could work herself into a panic, her otter mind surfaced again, claiming that everything was perfectly normal and of course she should sit in his lap, where else, silly. She sighed and closed her eyes again, letting her head rest on his leg. His large hand felt great in her fur.

The memory of who she used to be returned slowly as well. Witch. Muggleborn. Gryffindor, Deputy Head Girl. The otter thought those words were nothing but nonsense, but they stayed in her mind like beacons, allowing other things to be drawn to them. Charms, Professor Flitwick levitating a feather. The Gryffindor Common Room, and talking with friends. Classes and patrols. Conflict and war, and her parents.

When her memories returned, fear surfaced as well. She no longer had any place in the world, nowhere to belong. _Don__'t be silly,_ her inner otter said. _You__'re with him, of course. He's your otter. Even if he looks funny right now._ She shook her head in disbelief, but somewhere deep down it felt right.

Staying as an otter allowed her to stay with him, in his quarters, keeping him company. It was safe. No one would harm her when she was with him, of that much she was certain.

The Castle went still and silent when the students left for their summer holidays. Exams were done, the whole school year finished. She knew that thought used to be a lot more important to her than it was now. She hitched a ride on the Professor's shoulder when he left his chambers, whether it was for meals with Minerva, excursions to the Forest or to his lab where he had started brewing something intricate and refused to say what it was.

Slowly and without her really noticing, her mind was mending. The nightmares receded almost immediately as they were quickly derailed by thoughts of fish, streams, and interesting-looking things to play with such as balls, wands and glittery chandeliers. The otter mind didn't care much about the flashbacks that threw her back to Malfoy Manor or the war, causing the terror to recede from the memories, allowing them to lose the tension and their hold on her mind.

She yawned and nuzzled his hand. Yes, she thought, she might just keep this wizard, for his large bed and convenient hands.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**Summer 1999**

**Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, Scotland**

It had taken a lot of fish as bribes to make the otter stay with Minerva for an evening, and he wasn't sure she'd forgive him when he returned. Still, there was something he needed to do, and it had taken some time to arrange it.

As soon as Minerva had taken the otter off his hands he walked down to Hogsmeade, using the time to gather his thoughts once more. Outside the Three Broomsticks he spotted the tell-tale Weasley hair, and nodded at Bill before they both entered. They sat down in a booth with Rosmerta's Shepherd's Pie and a pint of ale each, and Severus started to explain his plans. Bill immediately caught on, and in turn brought up his own notes of their attempts at breaking the Obliviation on Miss Granger's parents during their trip to Australia.

Bill had always been the sensible Weasley, in Severus' eyes. Still with a lust for adventure, but curbed by an understanding of responsibility and of the fact that he, as a Hogwarts student, actually didn't know everything yet. The oldest Weasley son was one of the few Order members that had actually treated Severus with something akin to respect during Order meetings, sometimes even disagreeing with his mother or Mad-Eye when their suggestions became too outlandish.

As such, Severus respected the Curse-Breaker's opinions, but after reviewing the notes he still thought there might be a chance he could contribute something.

Bill nodded when he said as much. "I don't think anyone but you could, but if you say there's a chance, then there is a chance. How is Hermione, by the way? I heard from Harry about what had happened."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "She's as well as one can imagine. She has all the seafood she could wish for and a warm blanket to sleep in. However, I should much prefer to have her back as her normal know-it-all self, and perhaps this could provide the right incentive."

Bill shrugged before breaking into a smile. "Well, if anyone can do it it would be you, Professor. Feel free to ask again if you need assistance, and please let me know how it goes. Both with that and with Hermione."

Severus nodded. They left soon thereafter, when Bill needed to return home to his pregnant wife and Severus had one irate otter to placate. Luckily he still had a trick or two up his sleeve, and a batch of oysters brought to the Prefect's Bathroom seemed to be the right way to go. The otter perked up and immediately jumped into the water. After a couple of hours swimming she snuggled up close to him when he went to bed, purring almost like a cat.

~o~o~x~o~o~

It still took him a week of research and experimenting before he felt he was ready. The otter was curious as ever, peering into his cauldrons and trying to read his research notes upside down. Luckily his scrawny handwriting was probably too much for an otter to decipher, even the right way up. It was a big gamble, if he promised too much to either one of them and couldn't deliver he'd wreck all of their lives, again.

He sat down on the couch. She scampered up into his lap immediately, wanting to be petted. It made him feel slightly guilty, what if she'd hate him for it when she switched back? For touching her like a pet? Still, there was nothing for it.

"Witch, I need you to come back to me now," he said into her fur. "I miss you. I… don't know if you remember what you asked back then. You said you wouldn't mind if I stayed with you, that you wanted me to, even. Now our roles are reversed and I want to tell you… I need to say…"

He took a deep breath. "Hermione, I don't understand this. We have barely spoken in human form, over the years, other than in class, but you were the bright spot of my teaching career. Your essays were too long and you usually ended up regurgitating the textbook but then over time you started to think for yourself and actually produced some ideas that I continued exploring later."

She chirped and bit his thumb playfully, holding it between her sharp teeth without breaking skin. He smiled and used his other fingers to scratch behind her ears, which soon had her purring, releasing his thumb.

He sighed. It was difficult, trying to convey what he felt. "I do want you to stay with me, and you'll always be welcome here as an otter. But… I would rather hope to get to know you as you really are. You should move on to better, brighter things, find a nice young man and start a career, but I hope we could stay in touch. I don't want to lose you."

She snuggled closer. Her fur was soft and warm and it made his heart ache to think that he'd never experience that again, when she changed back and moved on with her life.

"I never thanked you for saving me, thrice now. You saved me in the Shack, you saved me at the trials, and you saved me again when I was an otter. I think I can get your parents back but not if you're not there for them. Wouldn't be much of a point to get their memories back and then when they ask for you they get shown an otter, now would there? They'd ask to be Obliviated right back."

Turning her head, her eyes snapped up to look at him. Was he actually reaching through the otter to her, the witch?

"Close your eyes and focus inside yourself. You know who you are. Remember what it felt like… what it feels like. Come back to me, witch."

The otter stilled in his arms and closed her eyes. He waited, equally as still. For a long time they sat there, breathing together. Then, suddenly, she opened her eyes and looked at him with a squeak just before her body grew and changed in his arms, the witch appearing yet again sitting sideways across his lap. He didn't move, didn't twitch, until she suddenly seemed to notice the state she was in and pulled her arms across her chest with a squeak, the torn top still hanging uselessly off her upper arms. She hopped up from his lap, leaving a surprisingly large void where she'd sat, and started to draw breath, undoubtedly to apologise for something quite unnecessary.

He rose as well. "Welcome back."

She nodded, not speaking. He raised a hand and wandlessly Summoned his teaching robes from their hanger by the door, handing the heavy cloth to her with a raised eyebrow. Words didn't feel as necessary anymore, after their respective time as otters. She twitched a smile at him and shrugged it on, still not quite looking at him. Why did she appear to be embarrassed?

"Hermione." Her large eyes snapped up to his. He cleared his throat. "Miss Granger."

Stepping closer to her, it felt so natural to fold her into his arms for an embrace, even though he had never in his life before initiated a hug. Her arms came up around his waist and after a while she sighed and let her head rest by his collar bone.

Although the thought of her inevitably leaving to find her own future hurt, she still felt wonderful in his arms.


	11. Renewed

**Summer 1999**

**Hogwarts, Scotland**

Hermione settled in a room in the dungeons, only a short corridor from Professor Snape's quarters. It felt good to be close. They'd gone to talk to the Headmistress later that same evening she turned back, and she had immediately agreed to let Hermione stay at Hogwarts and said she was going to contact Kingsley about the remedial NEWT sessions organised yearly at the Ministry. Harry had been happy to hear she was back and even Ron had sent along some greetings when she and Harry met up briefly one evening at the Three Broomsticks. It warmed her, in a confusing sort of way, to know she actually had friends that cared.

The first time she knocked on the Professor's door in the afternoon she had been terribly nervous, but he let her in without comment and returned to whatever project he was working on. Arithmancy, it seemed from the notes she could read upside-down on his kitchen table that now doubled as writing desk. She settled on his couch with a book, but after a while curiosity took over and she went over to sit across from the Professor.

"What are you working on, sir?" She couldn't quite make out the notes, only that they seemed related to potions and maybe something else.

He looked up with a frown which slowly dissipated, apparently not directed at her but rather at whatever he was working on. He nodded slowly and seemed to be collecting his thoughts. "I told you that I was working on a way to recover your parents' memories, didn't I?"

"Oh…" Whatever she had been expecting to hear, it wasn't that.

They spent the rest of the evening discussing his ideas, Bill's notes and her own recollections, and for the first time in a year she felt hope when she finally bade him goodnight much later. Someone else was on her side, for once, someone whom she could trust and rely on. Maybe, maybe there was a chance she would get her parents back, even as Professor Snape too had stressed how difficult it was still going to be.

Other thoughts crept in without her noticing. About his hands, his eyes that lit up with passion when he discussed something he was interested in. That small quirk at the corner of his eye which she suspected passed for a smile in Snape speak. She wanted… She didn't know.

~o~o~x~o~o~

After another couple of meetings with the Headmistress, over tea and shortbread, the plans became clearer.

Hermione would go with the Professor to Australia to make another memory restoration attempt, a few weeks into August. He wanted to do it before the start of term but there were still a few kinks to work out in his plans.

Remedial NEWTs were scheduled for October and Hermione would stay at Hogwarts until then, studying and helping Professor Snape with the Infirmary brewing and other smaller tasks. Although her graduation would be even further delayed, first due to her year on the run and then due to missing exams when in otter form, she found that she didn't mind. She'd be allowed to spend the time with him, after all.

Kingsley had made room in his busy schedule to come visit the Headmistress one evening, and she had in turn called for Professor Snape and Hermione. Apparently the efforts to clear out the Ministry were going well, they had arrested a few officials and several others had come forward to witness, saying they were coerced by the wolf who had threatened to convert their families if they didn't help him. Hermione was inclined to believe those stories, as was Kingsley, although he said he didn't trust them fully and would keep tabs on their actions. Umbridge was sentenced to Azkaban, as was Marietta Edgecombe, although on lesser charges. Kingsley also reported that Rabastan Lestrange had been sentenced to twenty years of servitude, without magic, at the Ministry-run Orphanage where some of the werewolves converted by Fenrir Greyback would be housed or treated during Moon Nights. Since the Death Eater had told them everything they might want to know about both the remaining Death Eaters and about Greyback, and also considering the fact that he had killed the werewolf himself rather than going after Severus, he was given a lighter sentence rather than Azkaban although that was still an option if he tried to break the terms of his sentence.

She'd also been forced to acknowledge her crush on the Professor, at least to herself, during the weeks spent in his company. More than once had she fallen asleep on his couch only to wake up the next morning to the smell of tea and House-Elf baked crumpets and toast, covered in the blanket she'd given him for Christmas. When he'd exited his bedroom dressed in black jeans and a shabby '70s band tee, drying his wet hair with a towel, she'd nearly swooned and almost dropped her toast in her lap. The urge to throw caution to the wind and just kiss him grew stronger every day, as did the voice of her inner otter insisting that it would be all right, that he was her mate, her otter. Unfortunately she didn't quite think the Professor would agree. He was proper and cautious with her, never once straying, not touching unless by accident and always calling her Miss Granger. She thought she might have caught him looking at her in a different way once or twice though, with what appeared to be longing, but she wasn't sure why.

~o~o~x~o~o~

August was upon them and it was time. Hermione felt nervous, over everything, but also relieved and grateful to have him with her on the journey this time. They took Portkeys to Sydney but it still took nearly six hours to make the trip with the intermediate stops. He'd offered her a potion against nausea, and she'd taken him up on it in Athens after the first leg of the journey. At least this time around they wouldn't have to hunt down the Grangers, wasting valuable time trying to find them, as Hermione could Side-Along Apparate them to the right location immediately even if they spent a night in a hotel in Magical Brisbane before getting started.

The trip was difficult for more than one reason, although in the end they were actually successful. After seeing what the Professor had to do to help bring their memories back she understood why her attempt with Bill had failed. It was incredibly advanced magic, and there couldn't be more than a handful people in the world that might succeed at it, Professor Snape being one of them. It had involved several potions, both standard Invigoration Draughts and Calming Draughts but also more complex brews that might have been slightly illegal to brew. It also required lengthy Legilimency sessions to try to restore the broken connections in her parents' minds, and the whole process had taken over twelve hours each. Hermione had kept the other parent in a magically-induced sleep, run interference with water and sandwiches, and tried to keep her worrying to herself while the Professor worked without stopping for more than a few bathroom breaks. He'd then appropriated the guest room and crashed into bed, leaving Hermione to deal with her parents when they woke up. Apparently it was good if she was the first person they saw when waking up, he'd explained, saying they needed to re-imprint themselves on her again to get the emotional connections back. That, too, had been gruelling, with lots of emotions and guilt and hurt feelings, but at least it had worked.

Another difficult aspect of the trip was simply travelling with the Professor, being in his presence in a completely new situation. Her mother had asked her if there was something going on between them, and Hermione was pretty sure her father had pulled the Professor aside to question his intentions, as it were. A few times during the trip they had to share a room although he insisted on booking them rooms with twin beds, much to her disappointment. He claimed he still saw her as a student until she'd actually passed her NEWTs, not at all caring about her indignant protests about being a year and change out from when she should have graduated.

They left the Grangers/Wilkinses behind after five days spent together, returning to Scotland again via Portkeys. At least Hermione had a target to aim for now that he'd mentioned her NEWTs, and it was with newfound determination she returned to her studies.

~o~o~x~o~o~

Another school year began and Hermione was still at Hogwarts, this time seated at the High Table with the Professors for meals in the Great Hall on special order by the Headmistress. She spent her days studying, finishing the seventh-year material she'd missed out on as an otter and taking the opportunity to meet with most of them one-on-one whenever their schedules were free since she didn't have to go to class. Professor Snape let her use the Potions classroom to revise the NEWT-level potions while he corrected essays or occasionally oversaw detentions, and she in turn helped him brew Wolfsbane for all the werewolf children left behind by Greyback. St Mungo's was gradually taking over the routine brewing, but the Professor had some ideas for improvement to the potion which he also wanted to continue working on.

She also took the chance to ask her Professors about future opportunities, still not sure what she wanted to do with her life. Had she graduated in June with the others she probably would have ended up at the Ministry, she guessed, but now perhaps other options would be more interesting. Professor Flitwick had lit up when she asked him during one of their tutoring sessions, and Professor Vector also seemed very eager to make plans for her future.

At the moment, Hermione was occupying the Professor's kitchen table with her Charms textbooks, while the Professor was reading a journal in his armchair. The fire was crackling, an elf had deposited some tea for them, and all in all it was a rather cosy Saturday evening.

She looked up from her books when something she'd thought about quite a bit returned to her mind.

"Professor?"

"Hm?" He didn't look up from the latest issue of _Potions Monthly_.

"Why an otter? I mean, why do you think you ended up an otter?"

He shrugged and put the journal down in his lap. "I must admit to some disappointment upon first finding out what I was, but the lure of the streams was too great for it to last long."

She bit her lip, thinking. "It suits you, anyway. In an odd way."

"Hm?"

That eyebrow of his rose. It did odd things to her belly. "Well, otters are naturally curious, right? They want to learn and try everything. They're smart and creative and kind, but also vicious when something is wrong. I think the otter is who you really are, deep down. Who you have the potential to be."

She'd heard bits and pieces about his history. The childhood, with poverty and abuse, and then Hogwarts which should have been a sanctuary but only became another arena for abuse and bullying. No wonder he'd moved on to join the Death Eaters, she thought, it must have been a natural next step considering the political climate and his background. If he'd had a different upbringing, a different experience at Hogwarts, she thought his more gentle and inquisitive sides would have shown more clearly.

"Hm."

He didn't say anything more but she could see him thinking about it, the pages left unturned. She didn't say anything further either, letting her own thoughts wander as they pleased.

When she left for her own quarters, much later, she thought she heard him say something as she closed the door. A soft thank you followed her out.

~o~o~x~o~o~

It felt very anticlimactic to finally be able to sit her NEWTs at the Ministry in August, during their yearly catch-up test session. Spending an extra year at Hogwarts only to miss the tests which were her main reason for going back felt quite ironic. Still, she dove into the books again for another month's worth of frantic studying until the day finally arrived.

The tests were spread out over two weeks, with theory in the morning and practicals in the afternoon for those subjects where it made sense to have practical demonstrations. Hermione was a bit surprised to see several other students there, one or two she recognised from Hogwarts who must have missed exams for some reason, and others that must have been home-schooled or had studied abroad.

As soon as the tests started, her jittery nerves calmed and she was able to focus on the questions, writing for hours without pause. It felt good, finally closing the books, as it were, on that part of her life. She didn't even feel the urge to look up the correct answers to all the questions afterwards, with perhaps only one or two exceptions in Potions and Transfiguration where she couldn't resist asking the Professor and the Headmistress over breakfast the following day.

The last test was Herbology, on a Friday. When she Apparated to the Ministry that day the main thing on her mind wasn't related to the upcoming test but rather the Professor. She would not be his student, or a student, after that day. She was determined to do something about their situation, although she had yet to figure out what that might mean.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**Autumn ** **— Winter 1999**

**Hogwarts, Scotland, mainly**

He glanced at her more often than not where she sat hunched over his kitchen table with her revision plans, books, notebooks and scrolls scattered around her. At the moment she appeared to be revising Transfiguration while he was supposed to correct essays.

It was more than merely attraction, it went deeper. He tamped it down behind Occlumency shields but they were difficult to hold when she fell asleep on his couch after studying well into the night. He covered her with the blanket she'd given him, and reminded himself that she would leave him soon, that she'd find some handsome young wizard and move off to bigger and better things.

His inner otter, however, had other plans, and kept pushing him to make his interest known and claim her properly. After not being able to sleep for several nights due to the thoughts whirring around in his mind he conceded defeat and started making plans. He'd try, at least. Once.

~o~o~x~o~o~

He waited for her outside the testing room when she finished the last of them, the Herbology practical on a Friday afternoon. She was wiping dirt from her brow when she exited the room, but lit up in a smile when she saw him. He couldn't help but to respond in kind, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

Nerves assaulted him at the last moment. "Would you care to accompany me to a restaurant tonight, Miss Granger?"

She looked at him oddly. "Only if you call me Hermione. I'm not a student anymore, Professor."

Well, she did have a point, and that was indeed what he had told her earlier. "Severus."

She grinned, linked her arm in his and started off towards the elevators. "Where are we going, Severus?"

His name like that from her mouth… it was hard to resist pulling her to him, never letting go. "I was thinking of an Italian place. Muggle, we won't be as exposed there and it's good. Well, it used to be good." Ten years ago, or more, when he'd last been able to visit.

"Sounds good to me, less risk to run into Rita Skeeter."

"Aren't you concerned to be seen with me, Hermione?

She stopped, forcing him to stop and turn to face her. "No, why would I? I'm proud to be seen with you, Severus."

He shook his head and refrained from commenting, certain she didn't really mean it, or that she hadn't thought it through properly. His Death Eater past wasn't that easily dismissed, at least not in the eyes of others.

They found the restaurant. It had, luckily, not closed, and a quick Confundus charm took care of getting them a good table despite not having a reservation on a Friday night. The food was excellent, as usual, and he barely noticed what it tasted like. Hermione filled the silence, talking about her tests and the plans she'd made for her future, while he nodded along.

Suddenly he became aware of the silence. She was looking at him without speaking. Had he missed something?

"Severus…?"

"Yes?"

She fiddled with her napkin. "I was just thinking… I wonder if you thought I turned back because of what you said about my parents?"

He frowned, that wasn't what he expected. "Yes? I'm sorry they weren't more accommodating. I did the best I could with them, sometimes it isn't enough."

Shaking her head she reached for his hand across the table and smiled, all at the same time. It was terribly confusing. "No, that wasn't what I meant. I can't ever thank you enough for what you did for me… for them. No, I just wanted to say that I didn't turn back because of that."

Her hand felt small and slightly damp in his. Warm. Her fingers curled around his. He didn't want to let her go. "Hermione. What are you trying to say?"

She took a deep breath. "It was you. I turned back because of you. I wasn't conscious all the time but I do remember thinking that if I stay an otter you'll let me stay with you, and then you were saying you wanted me to turn back, that you wanted to stay in touch even if we were both, well, human. You said you didn't want to lose me?"

There was a lump in his throat that made it hard to swallow, and his heart was swelling in his chest, making breathing difficult, almost painful. "I do… want that. Hermione. I… care for you. I just expect you to run off somewhere, starting your own life, not sparing a thought for your old Potions Master."

She squeaked, almost otter-like, and her mouth fell open in surprise. "No! I mean, I care about you too. I wouldn't do that!"

The waiter came by again, breaking the moment. She withdrew her hand from his, leaving him oddly bereft. When he had deposited their desserts — a nice chocolate mousse for her, a panna cotta for him — he reached for her hand again across the table.

"So you wouldn't be averse to my company?"

She smiled at him. "Of course I want you, silly. You're my otter."

He couldn't stop the stupid grin from growing wider and wider. "Whatever you say, witch."

~o~o~x~o~o~

She stayed at Hogwarts even after her NEWTs, doing a joint Apprenticeship for Filius and Septima. They resettled into a routine where she visited him most evenings, occupying his kitchen table with Arithmancy equations and obscure Charms textbooks. He wanted to take it slow, whatever _it_ was, giving her ample time to change her mind. He hadn't even kissed her yet, not properly, only ghosting kisses over her hand and forehead.

Then came the Hogwarts New Year's Feast Minerva had planned together with Kingsley, partly for fundraising purposes since they still needed to renovate some sections after the battle. They had invited not only the staff and students residing in the Castle for the holidays but also people from the Ministry and Wizengamot, the remainder of the Order, members of the Pure-blood families, academic contacts in various disciplines from around the country and plenty of others he didn't recognise. Severus drifted around the room, nodding to former students and exchanging a few words with some healers from St Mungo's while keeping an eye on Hermione who was chatting with some of her former classmates.

A blond man walking stiffly with a cane walked up to him. "Severus, old friend. How are you? Life post-despots seems to be treating you well."

Severus nodded at his sometimes friend who, admittedly, looked better than he had during that last year of the Dark Lord's reign, but not as healthy as he used to be.

"I'm sorry for not coming to see you, Lucius."

Lucius shrugged. "I haven't been much company, either. New beginnings for both of us, perhaps?"

They toasted to that and returned to watching the crowd. Lucius pointed out Draco who attended with Astoria Greengrass, and they talked for a while, carefully choosing topics not related at all to Dark Lords, war, Death Eaters, crazy sisters-in-law, teaching, or despotic Headmasters.

When he left the Malfoy patriarch it took him a while to find Hermione until he thought to look among the dancing couples. There she was, dancing and laughing with another former student. It took him a moment to place the young man, but then all the Potions accidents or accidental-on-purpose-explosions came crashing down into his mind and he recognised Mr Finnegan. The young man looked strong and handsome, smiling at something she said.

They looked good together, and comfortable. The brat held her close, too close. As if she could hear his thoughts her head turned until her gaze locked on his, and the radiant smile fell away. Of course, of course she would find someone better suited, he'd always expected her to. He just didn't think it would hurt this much. Scowling blackly he turned on his heel and stalked away to the bar, intent on dulling the pain with Firewhisky until he could retreat down to the dungeons in peace.

Just as he'd tossed the first glass down his throat, someone pulled on his arm hard enough to make him turn on his heel. She was standing in front of him, her hair crackling with latent magic and a scowl almost rivalling his own on her face. She looked absolutely breathtaking.

"What is it, Miss Granger?"

"Severus Snape, just what do you think you're doing? I'm not going to let your jealousy stop me from dancing!"

He snorted. "You looked more than comfortable out there. I've always known you'd find someone better suited. Someone young, carefree. Go off and be happy with your suitor, Miss Granger. Leave me in peace."

She stamped her feet and scowled at him. "Oh no you won't! How can I get through your thick head to make you understand? I don't _want_ anyone else, younger or no! You don't get to dictate all the terms of this, whatever this is! Don't you understand? You're my otter, my mate, mine! I'm not giving up on you!"

While he tried to make sense of what she'd just said she pulled his head down towards hers with a firm grip in his hair, and then her lips were on his and he lost track of everything else but her. It was messy and clumsy and perfect.

When she released her death grip on his hair they were met by a round of applause started by one of the Weasley twins. Apparently they'd garnered a bit of a crowd, with several of his colleagues and her former classmates watching them. She squeaked and buried her head in his chest, but he felt rather proud to stand there with her, that they'd all heard her claim him. It felt good, being claimed.

He chuckled and nudged her chin up so that he could kiss her again, and then pulled her out onto the dance floor.

They spent the rest of the evening together, and to his surprise several of her friends and his acquaintances came up to congratulate them, making her blush and smile every time.

When the clock neared midnight the Headmistress called for everyone to go outside to the balustrades by the main entrance staircase. Elves were once again circulating, offering champagne flutes to everyone. Well placed Warming charms kept the bite of the Scottish winter night at bay.

Under the starry sky filled with Weasley fireworks he pulled her close. They stood off to the side from the rest of the group, having placed their champagne glasses on the nearby balustrade. He was still a bit concerned, though, not sure it could be real.

"Witch, are you sure? I don't have much to offer you and I haven't done this before. I don't do casual, if that's what you're after then it's best we don't start anything."

She smiled and snuggled closer to him. "I meant it, Severus. You're my otter. Being with you just feels right."

"Yes. Yes, it does." Her heat warmed his chest, or maybe it was his heart expanding, it was hard to tell.

He kissed her again as Filius' enchanted bells struck twelve, and it was as if the fireworks and cheers were intended just for them.


	12. The Beginning And The End

**A/N:** This is the end of this tale, although their life together is just beginning. Thank you everyone who has followed and commented on this fic! I hope you've enjoyed it almost as much as I did writing it.

/AA

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

**2000, various points in time**

**Hogwarts, Scotland and elsewhere**

They still took it slow, despite Hermione's mounting frustration with his insistence on protocol and proper courtship procedures, but at least he seemed as eager to kiss her as she was. She made good progress in her dual Apprenticeship, learning more advanced theories from Septima and about spell creation from Filius. They'd agreed to let her skip teaching in order to have more time for both subjects since she wasn't planning on becoming a Professor, but she did help them with correcting essays and grading tests whenever she could.

Her friends had been oddly accepting of her choice to stay on at Hogwarts, and they hadn't even protested when it became obvious that she was dating the Professor. Ginny had waggled her eyebrows and asked impertinent questions, Harry had looked nauseous but only asked if she was happy, and Luna said something about them being mates.

~o~o~x~o~o~

Some months later she was sitting on his couch. Classes were done for the day, Severus had a stack of papers to grade and she was supposed to work on an idea for a new Charm with a time-release aspect.

Hermione took a deep breath. She needed him to understand. She'd been given the opportunity to study for one of Septima's old academic acquaintances, a very senior witch whose expertise lay in Warding and Curse-Breaking, from an Arithmantic perspective. The offer was for her to do a year of internship with Madam Hamilton, learning about real-life applications of the art, while continuing to correspond with Septima and Filius via Floo and the occasional meeting. She'd also been offered to rent a tiny one-bedroom apartment just off Diagon Alley, close to Madam Hamilton's office, and after thinking about it she'd accepted both offers.

"I think I need this, Severus. It's only a year, not even that. And there's a Floo and I happen to know you're pretty good at this Apparition business."

He still didn't look convinced, sitting stiffly with his arms crossed, not looking at her.

She sighed and sat down next to him, putting her feet up on the edge. "Look, I think that just moving from a student-teacher relationship to… whatever this is, while I still remain here at Hogwarts and nothing else has changed, means that we're still partly stuck in the same pattern. I don't want to be your student, Severus. I want to be your equal, your partner."

He sighed and looked at her, finally. "My apologies. It does make sense. I just…"

Something clicked in her mind when seeing him like that, looking lost and forlorn. Did he think she'd abandon him? "I'm not leaving you, silly. Do we really have to repeat our argument from New Year's Eve?"

That got a reaction from him, he raised an eyebrow and some heat came back to his gaze. "Not that I minded, witch. But yes, I too have felt a bit reluctant to take this further here."

Her heart sank. "You don't want to… to go further?" _You don__'t want me,_ she'd nearly said. It hurt to think he'd reject her now.

He immediately moved over to her, catching her in his arms. "No, witch, I very much want to. Haven't you noticed? It's just that I never did anything untoward with a student, not that I ever wanted to, and bringing you to my bedroom for a night of debauchery feels oddly wrong."

She wriggled a bit on his lap to sit up straighter, causing him to hiss. "But you're not against… debauchery in general?"

"Oh no, witch, I'll have you properly debauched soon. Unless you disagree." That smirk of his should be illegal.

"Maybe we need to practice…?"

He kissed her then, very thoroughly.

~o~o~x~o~o~

He helped her move, just as she'd hoped. Everything was finalised in the beginning of June, a few weeks before the end of term. The apartment was sparsely furnished but they still needed to spend the afternoon buying bedsheets and household items. After an evening in the stores he suggested they get takeaway for dinner, and luckily there was an Indian restaurant nearby in Muggle London. She wolfed down her Chicken Tikka while he did similar short work of his Lamb Rogan Josh. 

"Severus?"

"Yes?" He was preparing to leave, albeit with obvious reluctance, slowly pulling on his cloak.

She took a deep breath. "Please stay tonight."

He stilled. "Are you sure?" Looking at her, his eyes seemed to light up, or maybe it was just the reflections from the windows.

"I want you." She reached for him, trailing her hands along his shirtsleeves, up his neck.

He closed his eyes and then suddenly pulled her close, pressing her against him, trailing his nose along her cheek and jaw.

"As you wish," he breathed over her skin, leaving goosebumps all along her side, down her leg.

She tugged him along, walking backwards to the bedroom, and fell on the bed, pulling him over her. His hair fell around her face as he kept kissing her, and she started working on his shirt buttons.

Her world shrank, leaving only feeling and sensation as his hands roamed over her body, learning her peaks and valleys, even as she discovered them herself through the sensation of his touch.

~o~o~x~o~o~

When December rolled around she was frazzled but happy. She was planning to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays and thus had to spend the evening before leaving packing everything she'd need.

She'd settled in well in London, enjoying the chance to live on her own for a change, although she did admit to occasionally missing the Hogwarts house-elves when it came to cooking, cleaning and doing laundry. She enjoyed the work immensely and had often been told, if not ordered, to go home when Madam Hamilton wanted to leave for the night. Severus visited regularly, or she Floo'd over to see him, and they ended up spending the night together more often than not. After that first night in her flat he didn't have any compunctions with continuing the debauchery at Hogwarts, something Hermione was rather pleased with.

Finally done packing, she turned off the lights, made sure the Floo was closed and Apparated to Hogsmeade. Compared to what she'd felt like last Christmas, this year it was easy to pull out her wand and find happy memories to power a Patronus. She didn't even have to focus before the otter sprang from her wand, bouncing around her like a dog promised a walk, and she smiled at it when it left for Hogwarts to deliver her message.

He arrived almost immediately, scooping her up in a hug and kissing her soundly, not caring about the few people out in the streets. They walked the path to Hogwarts together, Hermione tucking herself under his arm, letting his warm cloak engulf them both.

They spent a lot of the holidays in his quarters but made sure to join the other staff and remaining students for Christmas dinner. To her surprise, Pigwidgeon arrived with a couple of letters from the Burrow on Christmas morning. Molly and Arthur wrote to wish her a happy Christmas and to say that they hoped she'd return to visit them soon, and Ginny had attached another letter where she complained of Hermione's absence, saying that Ron had brought Lavender Brown along and it was unfair of Hermione to make Ginny suffer through that on her own. Hermione was relieved to hear it but even more relieved at not having to go to the Burrow, something Severus agreed with when she asked.

A couple of days after Christmas they made the long Portkey journey over to Australia again, to meet her parents again. Severus hadn't complained but had still looked relieved when Hermione suggested getting a hotel for their stay, but she was glad to have him along nonetheless.

The Grangers had relocated from Brisbane to Melbourne, having run into some problems after their memory restoration especially with their names and identities. It was simply too difficult to reconcile their two sets of identities, having to explain their name change to patients at their clinic and friends, and so they opted to restart again in another city.

They spent a few days together and then Hermione and Severus headed for a trip around the country, focusing on the magical parts. Severus found several interesting magical specimens to use in Potions, Hermione bought books in the Magical Quarters of Melbourne, and they got to spend New Year's Eve at a fancy restaurant in Sydney.

She smiled and toasted him with a champagne glass. The night was warm and they were watching fireworks from their hotel balcony. "It's been a good year, hasn't it?"

He nodded. "Indeed. And more to come, one would hope."

He nudged her cheek with his nose before moving in for a kiss. He tasted of champagne and home.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**2001, various points in time**

**Hogwarts, Scotland and elsewhere**

To his utter surprise Severus woke up to someone singing. That had never before happened to him in his life. Birthdays, in his mind, were largely overrated affairs.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you!"

He opened his eyes, warily. Hermione was carrying a tray with a steaming mug of tea and something odd-looking that appeared to be on fire. When she got closer he saw that it appeared to be an attempt at a cake, with a single lit candle stuck in the middle. He felt the corner of his lips quirk up in a smile when she approached, clad in his black dressing gown and with her wild hair in a frizzy halo. She looked frightfully adorable.

"Go on, blow it out!" she coaxed him when she'd placed the tray on his bedside table. She pulled out some wrapped packages from the robe pockets and placed them next to the cake. Their square shape seemed rather book-like which was a promising sign.

He did that and pulled her down to sit on the bed, curling an arm around her hips. "Nothing to celebrate, turning a year older. Aren't you concerned about our age difference?"

She shook her head and kissed him on the nose. "Nope, can't say that I am. You're still my otter."

Later that same morning even Severus had to concede that birthdays, perhaps, weren't so bad after all.

~o~o~x~o~o~

They settled into a nice routine again, meeting either in London over the weekends or spending them in his quarters at Hogwarts, and the months passed. It was refreshing to work together with someone on an experimental potion. Hermione helped out with advanced calculations and ingredient preparations, and by simply being a sounding board he could bounce ideas off to see what stuck. They trekked the countryside that summer to gather more ingredients, although Hermione did complain about having to live in a tent again. He did make it up to her somewhat by having the most luxurious four-poster bed in it, and in the end she conceded that the company made the trip worth the hassle and that she was happy to have joined him.

He finished the potion just in time for school to start back up again, and named her in the patent application. Their version of Wolfsbane would only require one dose per lunar cycle and was much less sensitive to when it was consumed. It was easier to brew and also tasted a lot better, something Hermione had been most adamant about since it would be used by children.

She was still staying in London when autumn came, having extended her contract until the end of the year instead of finishing in May as was the original plan. After his initial reluctance he had come to realise that she was right, as usual. The distance, albeit annoying, was good for their relationship. She needed to grow into an adult, finding her own path. He had lived at Hogwarts for so long, apart from during the summers, and had never bothered with making his dungeon chambers a home, keeping whatever spare furniture Albus threw at him without really caring. Hermione, however, had immediately started adding her personal touches to the tiny flat, and seemed to value having to manage everything by herself. Cooking had fallen to him when they met, though, as she was surprisingly bad at it and didn't seem eager to learn. He suspected she lived off sandwiches and Muggle take-out when he wasn't there, but at least there were several good lunch restaurants near her office and he had heard her grumbling about Madam Hamilton insisting on them taking lunch breaks when Hermione was in the middle of a calculation.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**Early 2002**

**The Wolf House**

Rabastan yawned, again, and tried to focus. It was so hard to keep his eyes open, and it wasn't even late in the evening. He'd never been this tired, not once in his life. Not bothering to lift the blankets or strip out of his shabby janitor clothing he crashed onto the bed he'd been given, in a tiny room just off the kids' bedrooms. Of the sixteen children rescued from Greyback, nine had been moved to live in the Wolf House, their parents either dead due to Greyback's attacks or not willing to care for a werewolf child, and the others arrived to the House during the full moon period for their doses of Wolfsbane. Some of the older children had since moved out, but new young kids were unfortunately found and added to the pack occasionally. They had several staff members taking care of them, and then Rabastan who had agreed to the rather peculiar sentence rather than choosing Azkaban. He wore magic suppression cuffs on his ankles that would instantly Petrify him if he should try any magic, or if he were to venture outside the tight boundaries set in his sentence.

He was supervised, of course, and not quite trusted. In the beginning he stuck to the periphery, not interfering, but soon the kids dragged him into their chaos, and to his surprise he even grew to like it. He'd never had kids himself, having never married, and in a Pure-blood household elves and the wife would have handled the caretaking anyway. He liked the way they relied on him, trusted him to take care of them. They went to him in the evenings, begging for him to read to them. He taught the younger ones about magic and made sure the older ones did their homework, and in return they crawled up in his lap when he tried to eat, brought him badly-drawn pictures that he promptly put up on the wall in his small room, and simply pulled him into their pack without him even noticing. It had startled him to realise, after a few months, that he hadn't once considered their blood status. His old life felt like a distant, bad dream, especially the bits featuring Bellatrix Black or the Dark Lord himself.

The reason for his current state of tiredness was that it was a Moon Night, and more than half of the kids had come down with some sort of stomach bug the previous night. He'd been wiping vomit, cleaning sheets, hosing down kids and bedsheets without magic the whole night since he was alone with them during Moon Nights, the other workers not willing to risk being bitten if something went wrong with the Wolfsbane doses.

Just as he'd drifted off to sleep another wail woke him up. Groaning he got up to check on Eustace who was feverish and wanted water. His whole bed was wet since he'd dropped his water glass in it. The transformation would soon begin. Naturally Oliver woke up too and needed to go potty, and then Ariadne showed up from the room next door and said she'd puked in the bucket.

Groaning in defeat he rinsed the bucket and pulled down Eustace's blankets and pillow onto the floor. The young boy perked immediately, and went to lie down in his new makeshift nest. Rabastan sank down next to him, completely worn out. He was just going to wait for a minute to see if any other crises appeared, before he could finally go lie down in his own bed.

Some time during the night he woke up, feeling oddly warm. Someone was snuffling nearby, and he felt something furry under his hand. Opening a bleary eye he saw the whole lot of them there, all the werewolf pups sleeping haphazardly on, near or beside each other, having dragged their blankets and pillows over before the change overtook them. Ariadne was fast asleep across his legs, Oliver lay curled up under his hand, and Eustace was snoring behind his back. With a yawn he pulled Oliver's pillow closer and let the soft huffs and snorts of his charges lull him back to sleep.

~o~o~x~o~o~

**Summer ** **— Autumn 2002**

**Hogwarts and Hogsmeade**

Severus rose on his hind legs and looked out over the lawn until he spotted her, down by the lake. Half skidding down the wet grass he set out to meet her; an otter on a mission. July was warm but Scotland being Scotland, a light rain had just passed the area.

She squeaked at him and proudly pushed a small fish over to him with her nose. He sniffed it and rubbed his nose all over her face. She smelled just right, of fish and water and something perfectly Hermione.

Minerva had sat both of them down for some proper Animagus lessons shortly after Hermione's NEWT results came in. It only took her about half a year to make the shift properly, under the supervision of an expert, and Severus grudgingly had to admit that her guidance had made turning and turning back a lot easier even without resorting to Occlumency.

Soon she would be all done with her Apprenticeship. She'd finished the Charms part first, realising that Arithmancy was her strongest skill and where she could really contribute to the Wizarding world. Charms experts were a dime a dozen but Arithmancy was never as popular, and she had really made an impact already with the articles she'd published.

The adjustment to having someone else in his life had been both less and more than he'd expected. In some ways it felt completely natural, waking up with her in the mornings, making tea together, reading on the couch. Some other aspects had been more difficult, especially around their dynamics. They needed to recalibrate their own expectations of each other, and perhaps it was he who needed the biggest adjustment, having had more time to become set in his ways. At any rate, it had led to him talking not only to Hermione but also to Minerva, discussing how to make it easier on the staff to have a life outside of school. He was thinking of what to do for himself as well, considering alternatives to teaching, but had promised to stay on for another year.

He squeaked at her but it came out a bit muffled due to what he was holding in his mouth. Feeling nervous all of a sudden he dropped it in front of her and nudged it closer. She cocked her head and chirped, evidently curious. What if she didn't like it?

When she saw what it was she squeaked and changed back, still holding onto it. He shifted as well, taking a step back to give her space.

"A key?" She held out the object in question to him. "Severus?"

He cleared his throat. "Yes, a cottage outside of Hogsmeade. I asked to arrange a viewing to see what you think before making an offer."

She grinned at him. "Can we go now?"

Taking his arm they made the trek to the school gates, choosing to Apparate rather than walk the rest of the way. They landed on the outskirts of Hogsmeade in front of a stone cottage with a slate roof and a slightly overgrown front lawn. It was a reasonably large cottage, with a separate outbuilding at the back that he was thinking of converting to a Potions lab. It had a large sitting room half combined with the large kitchen, and the bedrooms were upstairs under the slanted roof with small windows letting in some light.

He stayed in the sitting room while she bounced around the whole house, exploring.

"Severus, this is perfect! Look, built-in bookshelves around the door!"

Relief coursed through him. "Do you like it? Hogsmeade is the best option for as long as I stay on at Hogwarts but this way we'd be out of the Castle and you could Floo to the Ministry or wherever you need to go."

She came over to him then, burrowed her face in his robes and squeezed him tight. "As long as I'm with you everything is fine. This is perfect, Severus."

"Good. I'll arrange to buy it then, in both of our names." She drew breath as if to contradict him, but he continued. "No, love. It has to be ours, not mine alone. We can pay for this out of the Wolfsbane fund anyway."

"You know I love you, right?"

He kissed her again. The cottage was fine but it didn't really matter. Wherever she was, was home.

~o~o~x~o~o~

She defended her thesis in September, in the golden hall of the Guild of Arithmancers located near the Ministry. Minerva, Septima, Filius and of course Severus were there to listen, having cancelled their lessons for the day, as was Madam Hamilton who together with Septima would stand for the young witch, vouching for her character and skill when it came to requesting entry into the Guild.

Her presentation was excellent, taking the audience through her reasoning and experimentation with novel techniques that made predictions easier for Potions research, Charms development and warding. Severus was immensely proud of her, and quite impressed by her work. Clearly she'd found her calling. He was passable at Arithmancy but she had a knack for it, much like himself with Potions, and he was already looking forward to making new discoveries together, combining their respective strengths.

Finally the whole room cheered and applauded when she was sworn in as a Master of Arithmancy, and a member of the Guild.

She looked proud and frazzled when he made his way down to the podium, waiting for her dunderheaded friends to finish congratulating her, then the rest of the Hogwarts staff. When she saw him approach she smiled widely and turned towards him.

"That was adequate," he said with his mouth half hidden in her hair. She'd tried to coax it into submission with liberal amounts of Sleekeazy and Muggle pins, but a few strands were rebelling and had managed to come loose. Although he complained about it strangling him in his sleep, he'd come to appreciate her hair, the scents it carried and the way it sparkled with magical energy when she was wound up.

She snorted and looked up at him. "Adequate? That almost sounds like praise, coming from you."

"Well, I cannot give you an Exceeds Expectations since you performed exactly as well as I expected. I fear it has to be an Outstanding."

Indignation gave way to joy in her expressive face. "Severus. Thank you, it means a lot for me to hear it from you."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Is that so? I thought you knew. In that case I shall have to remedy it by bringing it up more often. Are you done here?"

She looked around, caught the eyes of Madam Hamilton who smiled and nodded at her, before turning back to Severus and nodding.

"Come," he said and held out a hand for her. She melted into his arms, relaxing with a sigh, before he whisked them away in an Apparition.

They ended up on a small meadow, far from civilisation and buildings and expectations. Rolling hills could be seen in the distance, meadows and forested areas mixed haphazardly all over the landscape.

"Where are we?" She looked around, breathing deeply to catch the rich autumn air.

He did the same. The air felt fresh and slightly humid, smelling of rich earth and grass. "We're in Devon. Lucius lent me one of his country cottages for the weekend, but I thought you might appreciate this part first. Just over there is a small stream leading to the River Dart." He nodded towards the tree line at the edge of the clearing.

"Oh, that is just perfect, Severus. Thank you!" She perked up, her face split into a wide grin. "Last one in is a rotten herring!"

The odd idiom threw him off for a second while she gained a head start, Transforming as she ran towards the tree line. He couldn't help but to smile at her even as he shifted into his other form, chasing his mate.

The two otters bounded across the lawn and dove into the stream, playing and chasing each other and the poor unsuspecting fish in the stream, as the last autumn light faded from the treetops.


End file.
